


I Like Me Better (When I'm With You)

by cherryburlesque, sagesins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sheith Big Bang 2018, Shiro Is A Disaster, college/coffeeshop/bar/band au, too many to tag individually but they're all in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryburlesque/pseuds/cherryburlesque, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagesins/pseuds/sagesins
Summary: Lance's harebrained ideas usually result in Shiro wishing he'd taken on some other student as his charge when he joined the mentoring program at their university. This time though, he finds himself almost needing to lie on the ground at Lance's feet and beg for his thanks, because if Lance hadn't spotted Allura across campus, he never would have suggested they go to the bar where she performs with her band, and Shiro would never have met the guy with the too-pretty eyes who plays guitar.How should he ask for Keith’s attention? Call him by name? Was it right to be so personal after only meeting the night before? Was something like “Hey you” cool or uncool? Would it be rude to just shove the paper at Keith and hope he opened up first? Personal or impersonal…what was the damn etiquette here?Shiro hadn’t been able to make up his mind by the time Keith walked past, and so he settled for blurting out whatever he could to call Keith’s attention."You did good."Nailed it, Shiro thought humourlessly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sheith Big Bang 2018! This was a labour of love, I'll say. A huge thank you to my wonderful artists, [Viera](https://twitter.com/Aloevieraferren) and [Rory](https://memapod.tumblr.com/). I'm utterly honoured to have their work featured in this fic, and you can find more of their amazing art through the links!

Shiro’s Fridays’ were usually reserved for him.

A day free of classes meant that he took the opportunity to kick back, relax and put off any responsibilities until Sunday, when his procrastination took its toll and he spent the day in a state of panic as he powered through Monday’s workload. It was a routine he rarely breached, and he took great pleasure in turning off his phone and staying away from all social media.

Even his friends knew to leave him alone. The only reason anyone ever dared breach his Friday bubble was in emergency situations, which, after discovering the term ‘emergency’ could be subjectively interpreted a variety of different ways depending on the individual, Shiro had defined as ‘at risk of death or dying’.

At first, it seemed excessive. But hey, a guy in his line of study needed a fucking day, and Friday was designated Shiro Self Care day.

So—when on one such morning he had been settling into the couch with his usual coffee and mindless TV, and his solitude was rudely interrupted by a furiously loud banging on his front door—Shiro was ready to take names.

“I found her,” came the announcement and simultaneous destruction of anything peaceful for the rest of the day when Shiro opened the door with a glower. “I found the woman of my dreams.”

Shiro breathed a heavy sigh, and prayed to whatever deity might be merciful enough to hear his pitiful pleas for patience.

“Lance, I’ve heard you say that six times since the semester began. Did you really need to wreck my door just to tell me that?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Lance replied. He pushed past Shiro into his apartment, completely flouncing Shiro’s self-care day rules without preamble.

Unfortunately, Lance could get away with it and he knew it. He and Shiro had been close friends ever since they’d been paired together in a mentorship program that the university put on every year. Lance had been a gangly, excitable freshman straight out of high school and ready to take on the world in that tenacious way that new graduates had, and Shiro had been a Junior looking for extra credits and something to keep him from throwing himself out the nearest third storey window in a fit of desperation.

They were a pair that probably shouldn’t have worked well together given their vastly different personalities, but had somehow melded well, and had become long standing friends ever since.

Lance made his way across the room and threw himself dramatically down on the beat up old couch, an exaggerated sigh leaving his mouth as Shiro closed the front door and counted to one hundred and fifty.

“You don’t _understand_ ,” Lance moaned again. For all the world it sounded like he was a broody teenager trying to talk to their parents about a questionable new fashion trend at school.

“Don’t understand what?” Shiro asked, a little proud of how even he managed to keep his tone despite his simmering irritation.

“She was just...something else,” Lance replied, utterly oblivious to Shiro’s murderous intent. His voice had taken on a decidedly dreamy tone; the type which told Shiro he wouldn’t be free of any time soon. Whatever this girl had done to snare Lance’s attention must have been special. “She was...she was there in the cafe at the university pavilion...and I was going to head over to her to say hi, but I just...lost my words altogether. She was so beautiful, and then she laughed, and I…” Lance sighed dreamily. “I have to see her again. I have to.”

“And you interrupted my Friday for this?” Shiro deadpanned. He tried not to be irritated—he _tried._ Sometimes Lance’s crushes did lead somewhere—for about ten seconds. Once he’d even managed to get a girl to go on a second date with him, but it had fizzled out when some jock had come along and snared her attention away. So Shiro tried to be understanding and agreeable, even if he was missing out on precious self care time by humouring Lance’s latest crush.

“I gotta know what she studies,” Lance said, sitting up so fast that he might have been struck by lightning. “I gotta know her schedule.”

“That’s creepy, man. You’ll see her around again without stalking her.”

Lance paused for a moment looking abashed, and then swung his legs around so he could rest his elbows on them, sighing dreamily.

“I wonder what her name is.”

And it continued like that, for a solid hour. Lance was thoroughly gone on her, and Shiro had no hope of regaining the peace he had lost. So instead of booting Lance out on his ass, Shiro invited him to hang around and mellow down on some games and Netflix, and before long the mystery maiden was forgotten in favour of obnoxious commentary of bad space movies.

Mid afternoon shattered the peace again.

Halfway through another movie, Lance shot up from his position on the beanbag with his phone in hand, clutched triumphantly as he gazed up at Shiro. Shiro could practically see the stars in his eyes.

Shiro slumped back on the lounge with a groan.

That look meant he was well and truly doomed.

.o0o.

And that’s how he found himself in a run down, shoddy looking little bar off the beaten track that night. It was the type that had the perpetual air of too cool for mainstream, and the men all wore their hair long and the women their hair shaved. Beards and scarves were definitely the in thing too, meaning when Shiro walked in dressed in his usual getup he felt severely out of place.

Not that he was wearing anything ridiculous, having donned a pair of jeans, a black top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and high top sneakers. Nor was Lance, wearing varying shades of navy that complimented his eyes in a striking way. No, it was more the fact that this place was very, very much the type of hipster haunt that he wouldn’t have so much as considered a place to attend in his normal crawls of the varying places around town.

Perhaps that’s why the target of Lance’s affection elected to play here.

They’d found out about it via Pidge, who had spent precisely twenty minutes crowing to Lance about how hilarious it was that he was interested in _her_ of all people, that said target’s actual name as Allura, and that she played here every Friday night. She was the frontlady in a little trio of a band called Careful Suggestion, of which Pidge’s brother Matt was the recently recruited drummer. And Lance one hundred percent had absolutely no chance with her.

Lance had predictably taken that as a challenge.

So they fronted the pub, Shiro feeling distinctly ridiculous and hard done by, and had proceeded to wait for Allura’s band to set up their equipment.

The bar was lit only by dim lights lining the walls, throwing everything into semi-darkness except for the empty stage situated a few metres to Shiro’s right. LED lights skirted the bar itself, flirting with the notion that this place could be a club if they so chose, but purposefully opted to remain a scrappy looking watering hole for the local hipsters.  It had the typical smell that was thoroughly unique of a bar; a combination of cigarettes, old polished wood and too many cross-mixed body sprays.

There was a woman serving behind the bar, clad in only a black t-shirt and shorts, and her bouncy, cheerful attitude kept the attention of most of the men (and plenty of the ladies too, Shiro noted idly).  To the right of the bar sat a low, raised stage, already set up for the live music.

All in all, the place was small and rather shabby, but it had a certain charm that made it an attractive spot for people who weren’t interested in a noisy club, or wanted a more intimate atmosphere than a regular bar. At least, that’s what Shiro told himself to reconcile the fact that he was even here at all.

Lance made a beeline for the bar once he saw the empty stage. The absence of his ‘dream girl’ didn’t put a damper on his mood at all, and Shiro hung back by the bar with only a little amusement that Lance was so optimistic about this endeavour.

“What if she immediately shoots you down?” He asked once he’d joined his friend, handing over a beer while they settled at one of the high tables. “Are you going to spend the week moping in my dorm? ‘Cause if so, I’d like advance notice.”

“She won’t,” Lance replied cheerfully. “I mean, she probably will because they always do, but it doesn’t matter. I just know she’s special. You know what I mean?”

Shiro was about to reply with no, he most certainly didn’t. But in one very fell swoop, he felt his conviction of that statement leave him as someone—presumably one of the band members—climbed up on the stage.

It had to be the guitarist, seeing as Matt was the new drummer. Whatever he was didn’t end up mattering at all, because Shiro stared up at him like a lost puppy, utterly robbed of words as the stranger fiddled with the equipment set up around the stage.

He was _beautiful_.

Dark, shoulder length hair was swept back in a low ponytail, most of his bangs hanging haphazardly in front of his eyes and framing his angular face in a way that put his features in sharp relief. His body was slender but full of a coiled strength that could be glimpsed even through the black top and loose red overshirt he wore, and his hands were long and slender where they gripped the neck of the guitar he was tending to. There was a leather cuff on one wrist, but otherwise his arms were bare, and he carried himself with such an easy grace that he reminded Shiro of a prowling cat.

****

The guy straightened up once he was satisfied with whatever it was he’d been messing with, and for the briefest second those eyes met Shiro’s, and Shiro felt like his whole world had fallen away.

He could see galaxies in those eyes.

“Yeah,” Lance said with a snicker, watching Shiro’s opened mouth admiration in clear amusement. “You know what I mean.”

.o0o.

Matt wandered over to greet them after their first set. He was slightly nervous but otherwise cheerful, and accepted their well wishes with an awkward grace that ran in the entire Holt family. Shiro bought him a drink which he accepted gratefully, and once he had half of that under his belt, Lance began firing the questions in.

“So who else is in the band?” It was as casual as though anyone without a hidden agenda had asked it. Matt, unable to see the bad in anyone, simply grinned and waved at his companions, who were on the other side of the bar, to join them.

Shiro’s heart jolted in his chest when he realised that the guitarist was coming over along with the Mystery Maiden, and subconsciously straightened his shirt.

“Keith, Allura, these are friends of mine from school!” Matt said brightly. “Lance and Shiro.”

Keith.

_Keith._

Keeeeeiiith.

Shiro rolled the name over in his mind several times while he gazed at Keith, hoping he didn’t look too dopey and stupid to the guy. Up close, Keith had a tiny scowl on his face, and he had his hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. When his eyes passed over Shiro, Shiro felt something like a gunshot go off in his stomach, and if he wasn’t sitting already he thought he might need to.

_Get it together, Shiro. You’re swooning in a fucking hipster bar for god’s sake._

Mental reprimanding aside, Shiro grinned at the newcomers and extended his hand, shaking both of their hands in what he hoped was a genuine and welcoming gesture.

Lance had already commandeered Allura’s attention, so Shiro felt not an ounce of guilt when he turned back to Matt and Keith.

“You guys are pretty good up there,” he said with a smile.

“You know Alex Lahey?” Keith asked.

“Uh…” Shiro laughed awkwardly. “Actually, no, I don’t. Were you singing covers?”

Matt snorted into his drink with a shake of his head, causing Shiro to flush. Damn nerd had already figured Shiro out and he’d barely even said two words to Keith. He was not going to live this one down.

“Yeah,” Keith said, folding his arms in a gesture that was decidedly closed off. “Mostly indie stuff. I thought you might know some of it since you were here.”

“Oh, no,” Matt interjected gleefully. “They’re only here because Lance is hot for Allura.”

They all turned at once to Lance, who was leaning on the table with a goofy smile on his face, looking at Allura like she’d hung every single star in the sky. He was apparently oblivious to the fact that she didn’t look overly thrilled at the situation she was in, but she mustn’t have been too bothered by it because she was chatting away easily while Lance hung on to every word.

Either that, or she was discreetly searching for an out.

“Poor schmuck,” Matt remarked. “He’s got no hope.”

“Don’t put it past him,” Shiro muttered with a bemused shake of his head. “Pidge told him he had no chance with her.”

“Oh god, no. Why would she do that? He’s only going to try harder now to prove her wrong.”

“Because she thrives off chaos, apparently.”

“Pidge is your sister, right?” Keith said to Matt. “She’s the ultra-genius.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Matt huffed. “We’re an entire family of ultra-geniuses. But yes,” he said after a moment. “She’s the one who skipped all the grades.”

“You’re studying too?” Shiro asked Keith, hoping he wasn’t quite as pathetic looking as Lance.

Keith gave him a funny look that was both adorable and confusing at once. “Yes. Aeronautical engineering.”

Shiro whistled. “I thought about aero, but switched to mechanical at the last minute. Had a better chance at flight school afterwards with mechanical.”

“I know,” Keith said. “I looked into it too.”

They continued to chat amongst themselves while simultaneously watching Lance with high amusement the more he tried to impress Allura. She accepted his attention with the kind of grace that could only come from a woman used to it, and was clearly entertained by the increasingly ridiculous things Lance spouted to her. Shiro shook his head as he drained his beer, hoping that he would never sink so low as to make a fool of himself like that in front of someone he found attractive.

“So, Keith,” Shiro cleared his throat and tried to look casual as he shot Keith a smile. “Want a brink?”

Keith’s eyes bugged out of his head as Shiro’s brain electrocuted itself on the spot, and he dimly registered Matt choking into his beer mid sip. Heat flooded Shiro’s cheeks faster than should be healthy, and he coughed pathetically, knowing there was absolutely no way to salvage this situation.

“I meant drink!” He said, his voice pitching a little in embarrassment. He forced a laugh, but couldn’t get the image of Keith’s expression out of his head. “I wanted to say beer or drink at the same time, and it came out as brink! Oh my _god_ …”

“Sure,” Keith, blessed, sweet, beautiful Keith, threw Shiro a bone as Matt wheezed over the table. “I’ll take a Brooklyn.”

If embarrassment could hang over him like a cloud, it was following him all the way to the bar and back, two drinks in hand. Keith was watching him with a look of amused pity as he took his beer with a murmured thank you, and Matt was still cackling quietly like he was witnessing the funniest show of the century. Shiro resigned himself to a slow, agonising death right alongside Lance.

“So, anyway,” Shiro finally managed to say after a few more sips of his drink. “What do you do besides music, Keith?”

“And studying for roughly eighty hours a week?” Keith asked mildly. Shiro grimaced in sympathy. “I have a casual job that I work at on days I’m not here or at school.”

“Jesus. When do you get time to sleep?”

“When I’m dead,” Keith deadpanned.

Shiro laughed, and it earned him a small grin—enough to make his heart belly flop in his chest.

They chatted for a little while longer, mostly about music (Keith was chagrined to learn that Shiro’s music taste was basically confined to the top forty at any given time, and Shiro was bewildered by the names of fifty different bands he’d never heard of but somehow promised he’d listen to at some point). They fell into an easy conversation despite the noise around them, and although Keith was still a little standoffish, Shiro liked to think that he was smiling a little bit more often by the time they were interrupted.

“Hey.” It was Allura, who had evidently finally escaped Lance (the latter watching her dreamily where she’d left him at the table). “We’re on again now.”

Keith nodded and threw back the last of his drink, and Matt slid off his stool. He ribbed Allura lightly about the attention she’d garnered, but despite the way she tried to play it off, Shiro didn’t miss the slight flush to her cheeks. He smiled to himself when he thought Lance might not be quite so miserably out of luck after all.

“Nice to meet you, Shiro,” Keith said simply as he placed his bottle on the table. He paused for a second, and then a roguish smirk crossed his face. “Thanks for the brink.”

Shiro couldn’t tell if he promptly wanted to jack off until he went blind or die right there on the spot.

.o0o.

Suffice to say, Shiro left the Lass O’Gowrie pub that night with a new appreciation for guitars, dark hair and indie music.

.o0o.

The clock on the wall was mocking him.

Shiro was about eighty seven percent sure of it.

He’d been flicking his gaze between the droning of the professor, the essays he was marking in front of the class, and the clock ticking idly, for what felt like the past three hours.  Turned out only twenty minutes had passed of the two hour class.

If time went any slower, it would be going in reverse.

Shiro sighed heavily. TA-ing was good for his resume, and served as an opportunity for him to occasionally refresh his own memory regarding some of the more basic concepts he’d since moved on from as he’d advanced through the course, but hell if it wasn’t one of the most ass-numbingly boring jobs he’d ever picked up. He spent his afternoons marking the work the professor was too lazy to do, going over the lesson plan for the day, occasionally acting as the guy who flicked ‘next’ on the projector button, or the guy who made sure the students weren’t cheating on their exams.

Several times he’d wondered whether it was better for him to focus what felt like wasted time on study and improving his other grades.  But his inner ‘rational Shiro’ told him that the work would be worth it in the end, when he had it by his name as he handed his CV in when he graduated. And so he’d resigned himself to at least the rest of the year, hoping it would be worth it.

If Shiro was having trouble concentrating, he felt a small twinge of pity for the students. It was downright criminal to have this class scheduled for a Monday afternoon when everyone had already mentally checked out, and the quiet rustling and shuffling through the lecture hall told him that there was very little note-taking to be had. Not that he could blame them, if he were honest. He’d checked out before he’d even arrived.

Realising he was staring into space, Shiro snapped himself out of his daze and turned back to the task at hand: grading.

The essay he was currently working on was unexpectedly succinct; detailed and ambitious especially for a sophomore level class. The topic _had_ been open to interpretation, but most students tended to stick to the most obvious route when it came to these types of questions, so it was always very clear when one veered off the road a little.

Curious, Shiro flicked the paper back over to its cover page to check the student’s name.

_“Keith Kogane._

_15086703_

_B/ Aeronautical Engineering.”_

... _No way._

Shiro snapped his eyes up and scanned the lecture hall, peering at the familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, mostly because he hadn’t learned Keith’s last name the other night at the pub, but he couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction the name gave him. He’d never seen Keith in this class before, but clearly he was meant to be here given the fact that his essay was cruising for an A grade.

After a few minutes, Shiro finally spotted him. Tucked towards the back away from the other students, obviously engrossed in what the professor was saying, Keith looked every bit as pretty as he had when Shiro had first laid eyes on him, even in the scrappy, college clothes he was currently wearing. His hair was loose, curling around his face in a thick black mop, and he was chewing idly on a pen while he stared intently at the slide show, occasionally taking down a note.

While the rest of the class were bored out of their brains, Keith was soaking every bit of information in that he could.

_How long has he been in this class for?_

It took Shiro a solid minute to realise he was staring, and he snapped out of it when the professor called on him to explain one of the concepts.

“Uh…sorry. The functionality of a monomer? It’s the number of binding sites that can be found in it.”

“Right. That will show up on your exams by the way, so make a note.”

Shiro turned back to the essay when the attention was off him, breathing a sigh of relief. He really disliked it when he was called on unexpectedly like that. It always felt like the professors were testing him just to see if he still had the nettle, despite the fact he finished their subjects with high grades.

After a moment of grazing through Keith’s essay again, Shiro peeked up at the back corner of the hall, and found his stomach flip itself over. Keith was staring right at him, though his expression was hard to determine at the distance. Shiro flushed involuntarily and ducked his head again, hurriedly trying to finish off the essay so he could personally hand it back at the end of the lesson; something that wasn’t exactly protocol, but damn if Shiro wasn’t above breaking rules right now.

It felt like the class whizzed by at a rate of knots after that. Shiro couldn’t stop himself from glancing up intermittently, pretending to scan the crowd but always watching for Keith. And when he wasn’t watching his new found interest he was as engrossed in the details of Keith’s essay.

It was morally ambiguous, perhaps, when he happily marked the essay with a perfect grade. But he felt it well deserved, given the fact that it was such a well written paper. Plus, it gave him the added advantage of being able to hand the paper back personally.

Though when the class was dismissed and Keith slowly sauntered down to the front, Shiro was sweating bullets about his plan. How should he ask for Keith’s attention? Call him by name? Was it right to be so personal after only meeting the night before? Was something like “Hey you” cool or uncool? Would it be rude to just shove the paper at Keith and hope he opened up first? Personal or impersonal…what was the damn etiquette here?

Shiro hadn’t been able to make up his mind by the time Keith walked past, and so he settled for blurting out whatever he could to call Keith’s attention.

“You did good.”

 _Nailed it,_ Shiro thought humourlessly. It at least got Keith to pause and look over his shoulder at him. One brow was raised in bored curiosity, and Shiro felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“Well, I mean.” Shiro held out his paper to give back. “You did very well.”

Keith blinked and stared for a moment before pivoting back around to walk back to the desk Shiro had made his work space. Keith clearly eyed the stack of other essays that hadn’t been handed back before he took his own out of Shiro’s hand, flicking the page until he could see the grade at the bottom of the essay.  If favouritism was something to question, Keith clearly wasn’t bothered by it.

“Thanks,” Keith said quietly before he turned once again to head for the door.

“Wait!” Shiro hadn’t exactly shouted—thank god—but his voice raised enough to catch a few of the other student’s attention. “You… Do you remember me?”

Keith stopped and turned again to give Shiro a bored look. His gaze had Shiro swallowing thickly, despite the fact that the guy seemed almost disinterested in conversation.

Until he spoke, and offered more than just a simple passing pleasantry.

“Did you listen to any?”

“What?” Shiro asked stupidly, caught off guard by the question.

Keith’s bored expression became slightly disappointed, and Shiro’s gut twisted in a way that made him want to right whatever wrong he’d suddenly committed, despite the fact he had no clue what it might be. Anything to get that look off Keith’s face.

“Alex Lahey?” Keith asked, in a tone that dictated it should ring a bell.

And it did, except Shiro had definitely partaken in a few drinks that night, and had honestly spent more time memorizing how Keith spoke and walked and looked up on stage than he had the names of vague, uninteresting sounding musicians. Not that Shiro was about to point that out to Keith.

His expression must have given him away, because Keith just sighed and reshouldered his bag before folding his essay up carelessly. He hadn’t even looked at the notes Shiro had added to the paper, which stung just a tiny bit.

“Listen to _Every Day’s the Weekend_ _._ Good starter song.”

Keith walked out without another word, leaving Shiro a little stunned and gaping in his wake. The moment he was out the door, Shiro made a ruckus of grabbing a scrap piece of paper and pen, intent on writing down the imparted information before it slipped out of his mind in lieu of watching Keith’s back as he departed.

.o0o.

Later that evening, he listened to the song once. Initially, he’d thought it wasn’t really to his taste, but by the time the night was out he’d listened to it several more times and was imagining Keith up on stage strumming out the quick guitar riffs.

By the time Shiro went to bed, he’d bought the entire _I Love You like a Brother_ album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the song Keith suggested to Shiro; [Every Day's the Weekend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBj_magluuc) by Alex Lahey. 
> 
> Fun fact I cried when Vierra sent me her artwork.  
> Another fun fact: the lass o' gowrie is a real pub that i used to frequent back in my uni days. good little watering-hole.
> 
> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.
> 
> Art in this chapter by [Vierra.](https://twitter.com/Aloevieraferren)


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro’s next Self Care Friday ended with another visit to the shabby little hipster bar. It was an abrupt change from his usual solitary peace, but he reasoned with himself that ‘self-care’ was open to interpretation and visiting a casual bar for a casual drink to watch a casual band play definitely fell under the category of self-care.

Too bad he was terrible at playing it casual.

Shiro sat at the bar this time, watching with rapt attention as Keith walked onto the stage to begin setting up the sound system. The grin he shot Allura and Matt when they both joined the stage was devastating to Shiro’s poor heart, and he nearly choked on his drink when those eyes landed on him.

Keith raised a brow, and Shiro gave him a sheepish wave. His response was a purse of Keith’s mouth like he was trying to hide a smile, and he turned back to the stool where his guitar was leaning without waving back.

Most of the songs they played that night were songs Shiro hadn’t ever really heard of. They weren’t the type to find mainstream radio play at any case, but they were enjoyable, and when the one song played that Keith had recommended to him Shiro mouthed along with it.

At the end of their set Allura thanked the crowd and the band excused themselves from the stage. Keith packed up his guitar and Allura the rest of the supplies, while the next group to play began setting up. As they were descending the small stairs, Allura was swept into a group of excitable girls who must have been her friends, leaving Keith to wander over to the bar—directly to Shiro.

“You were singing,” Keith said in lieu of greeting. He wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and Shiro stared for a moment, before blinking himself back to reality with a clumsy laugh.

“Sort of,” he said nervously, swirling his glass so he had something to look at that didn’t make him want to melt like butter. “Still don’t know all the words yet.”

“I take it you liked the song?”

Shiro grinned. “Bought the entire album.”

Keith looked smug and took a sip of his drink, his eyes gleaming in the dim light as the next band began to play. “Well I suppose it’s only fair then. Who do you recommend?”

“Who?”

“Music,” Keith said, lips quirking as Shiro sputtered. “I’ll listen to whatever you suggest.”

Shiro felt himself flushing, and hated himself for it. It was a simple question, dammit. It meant nothing other than a trade off; song for a song. It wasn’t like Keith was asking for his  _ number _ .

But his mind was utterly blank as he fought to come up with something, and in his growing panic he ended up blurting the first thing that came to mind.

“The Chainsmokers?” And when Keith’s expression soured, Shiro was quick to stumble on. “They’re a good band!”

“They’re boring,” Keith said with a twist of his lips. “They’re run-of-the-mill, radio easy artists.”

“You’re getting snobby on me,” Shiro ribbed with a knowing grin, and he preened internally when Keith’s cheeks coloured slightly.

“Shiro!” Matt’s exuberant voice interrupted before his arm swung comfortably around Keith’s neck. “Glad you could come and see us play again, buddy! Admit it; you’re in love with my drumming skills, aren’t you?”

“You did great,” Shiro replied with a smile. He downed the last of his drink, and his eyes flashed to Keith as he set the glass down on the bar. “You all did.”

“So,” Matt stole Shiro’s attention again, Keith standing under his arm without care as he leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are you going to make this regular?”

“Maybe,” Shiro replied with a laugh. “Do you play every week?”

“Mostly,” Keith said with a shrug. “Unless one of us isn’t free.”

Matt rolled his eyes at the answer, but they landed on Shiro’s content grin at the response, and Matt’s expression quickly turned wicked with knowledge. Shiro suddenly felt very, very exposed.

“If we’re ever not here, you can just ask Keith when we’re playing next.”

The moment the words left his mouth Keith looked at him with a warning scowl. Matt cheerfully ignored it and continued talking like he wasn’t on the receiving end of a frighteningly irritable look.

“Keith works at the coffee joint a few blocks off the west pavilion,” Matt continued with glee. “Makes a good coffee.”

“Is that right?” Shiro asked Keith, both to confirm and to make sure that it was okay with Keith that he knew. Hanging out at the bar and watching him play was one thing, but following him across to his work place to see him was another thing entirely.

“Part time,” Keith said. He didn’t look too pleased that Matt let that information drop, but he wasn’t shooting down the idea either. Shiro didn’t get a chance to ask before Keith changed the conversation, ducking under Matts arm with a muttered, “I’m going to help Allura pack up.”

Keith slipped away quickly on his long legs—something Shiro couldn’t help but pay rapt attention to.

“You’re as bad as Lance.”

“Am not,” Shiro said without thought as he turned to look at Matt. The skeptically bemused look Matt was giving him made Shiro flush. “Does he really work at a coffee shop?”

“Never mind, you’re worse than Lance,” Matt snickered, causing Shiro to sputter in outrage. “He does. You should go say hi some time.”

Shiro turned back to the stage where Allura was helping Keith pack away his accessories, and his stomach jolted when he realises Keith was staring right at him. He looked like he was glaring, but his gaze was pulled away when Allura said something to him, to which he shrugged and they both moved to walk off stage.

“He doesn’t want me to,” Shiro finally said, and he couldn’t stop the sad lilt to his voice.

Matt’s snort startled him. “Yes he does. He just doesn’t expect you to make the effort. He’s a bit of a pessimist like that.”

Allura called to Matt then, and he gave her a wave of acknowledgement. Keith was nowhere to be seen.

Matt slapped a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and offered a far kinder smile than the teasing grin he’d given earlier. “Sometimes, all someone wants is reliability. Sometimes it’s hard to come by.”

Matt walked away with a wave, and left Shiro with a goal. He could be reliable.

.o0o. 

Shiro decided to wait three days.

He didn’t want to come across as creepy, and he still wasn’t sure whether or not Keith  _ really _ wanted to see him at his place of work. So Shiro decided waiting a while until he ‘happened’ to wander past the coffee shop was the best course of action.

It was the longest three days of his life.

He kept himself occupied easily enough, with his homework and TA work, but he found his mind wandering a little too frequently for it to be healthy. Keith slipped into his thoughts without permission whenever Shiro wasn’t concentrating, and the itch to see him again, even though he was still unsure whether or not Keith was interested, was strong. He listened to the music Keith recommended on repeat, and saw him up on stage in his daydreams sweating under the heat of the lights.

By the time he finally allowed himself to go and find the coffee shop in the west pavilion, Shiro had fully accepted he was a goner.

.o0o. 

It wasn’t all that difficult to find. The place was busy when he stepped inside, which was a good sign to Shiro. Busy café’s always meant good coffee, and even if Keith wasn’t working or didn’t want to see him, Shiro could pass off his presence as that of a picky customer looking for a good brew.

Turned out his careful plans of deflection if Keith genuinely didn’t want to see him genuinely didn’t matter. Because when Shiro made it to the front of the line and Keith registered that he was the next customer, it was like the entire world stopped just for them.

Keith stared for a few moments, wide eyed and adorably surprised. There was an element of disbelief to his expression that did funny things to Shiro’s heart, and all Shiro could do was grin and raise his hand a little sheepishly in greeting.

“Hey.”

“You came,” Keith whispered incredulously.

Maybe Matt was right when he said Keith just didn’t expect Shiro to show up.

Shiro just smiled in lieu of saying anything, until colour rose in Keith’s cheeks dusting them an adorable shade of pink.

“Uh. What would you like?”

_ A date _ , Shiro almost blurted, but managed to stop before he made a fool of himself.

“Just a flat white please. No sugar.”

Keith scribbled his name on the cup along with his order, shoving it aside for someone else to make.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said with far more confidence than the butterflies are letting him feel. “You never asked me what song.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and the colour on his cheeks darkened infinitesimally as he ducked his head and gave a shy smirk.

“That’ll be four ninety-five,” Keith said, jutting his chin a little and holding his hand out expectantly. “And one song title.”

Shiro grinned as he fetched his card to pass over. All of his loose change went into the tip jar while Keith rang up his order, and when he took back his offered card he saw Keith watching him expectantly.

“Just the one?”

“Make it count,” Keith said, smirk never leaving his lips.

“Shiro!” The barista called his name, sliding his cup across the empty bench space for him to pick up.

“Closer,” Shiro said, giving Keith a genuine smile as he moved away to let the next in line step forward.

“The Chainsmokers. Closer. Got it.” Keith nodded to himself. He turned back to the next customer, leaving the conversation closed.  

Shiro decided he was going to make the coffee shop a regular stop from then on.

The fact the coffee was incredible was a bonus.

.o0o.

It became a habit to be at the bar every Friday from then on, and to visit the coffee shop every other day.

His admittedly meagre budget was a little strained by the new routine, but it was worth it as Keith slowly began to open up to him.

Shiro asked for more music recommendations, as well as drink ones. Sometimes when he went to the coffee shop it was blessedly during a lull, and not only could Keith actually take a moment to speak, but he took the time to make Shiro’s drinks as well.

Keith didn’t ask Shiro about music again, which was fine by him. He did ask about Shiro’s classes though, and opened up about his on desire to fly.

Several times Shiro didn’t get to the shop until later in the evening when he finished his work for the day on campus. It was dark and Keith would be the only one there, only one or two other people lingering in the shop at such an hour. Keith would take one look at Shiro’s exhausted state and make him a drink that would make angels cry, and they’d sit together at one of the small tables to just talk and enjoy the brief snippet of time together.

It was enough progress that Shiro considered them friends, and he was beyond ecstatic by it. Keith laughed at his stupid jokes, and even made a few dry remarks of his own. He tormented Shiro relentlessly about not realising Keith was in one of his TA classes (“It’s a Monday afternoon class! Who has their wits about them on a  _ Monday Afternoon? _ ”) and Shiro teased Keith about his ‘hipster attitude’ towards music. All in all, the more they spent time together, the harder Shiro fell, until his entire week revolved around his college classes and the snippets of time he’d get to spend with Keith.

Lance, by the sound of it, was making similar tentative progress with Allura.

.o0o.

Friday night rolled around, Shiro at his usual spot by the bar. The bartender was familiar enough with him by now to greet him by name and make his drink without asking. He half listened to the duo singing classic hits as he nursed his drink, waiting for the moment when Keith, Matt and Allura took the stage.

As he always did when he first walked up on stage, Keith knelt down to play with the previous bands settings on the sound board, plucking at his guitar to make sure it was tuned and sounded to his liking. He had a habit of strumming the first few chords of the first song to make sure it sounded right, and most of the bar usually ignored the testing.

Shiro didn’t. Especially not tonight, when he heard a very familiar melody carry through the building.

Keith looked up as he played idly, catching Shiro’s eye as he played the very song Shiro recommended to him. Shiro was pretty sure his expression was somewhere between blind adoration and the most ridiculous grin in the place, and Keith gave him a soft smile in return that had Shiro’s heart tripping over itself in his chest.

He made it a fair way into the song before Allura placed a hand on his shoulder and signalled for them to begin their normal set.

Shiro listened as he always did, but his mind kept replaying the vision of Keith playing the song cover over and over, and the smile Keith shot him as he did so.

When their set was over and the bar offered their usual cheers, Shiro had no qualms about walking right up to the stage.

“You listened to it,” he said redundantly, still sporting a stupid grin.

Keith looked at him like he was offended Shiro would assume otherwise, but his offense was shallow and quickly slipped back into his usual smirk that Shiro had become so familiar with.

“The Chainsmokers are boring and overplayed,” Keith said with a huff, with such conviction that it was like he was daring anyone to say otherwise. “But I  _ guess _ that’s because they’re pretty good. I suppose. If you like that sort of thing.”

Shiro’s smile turned smug, and Keith huffed again and stuck his chin out in a gesture of defiance.

“You should give me more recs,” Shiro said, even though his face felt like it was burning at the adorable look Keith was sporting.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. He looked back at Shiro, and something in his eyes spoke far more than any conversation they’d had up until now. “You too.”

They didn’t get a chance to say much else. Allura and Matt swarmed them in cheerful greetings and congratulations on a good performance, before Keith had to help them clear off the stage for the next band. But as he did so, he kept looking back and offering Shiro little smiles that made Shiro’s stomach do flips.

Shiro was a ruined man. 

.o0o. 

He became a regular. Both at the bar, and at the coffee shop, where he had taken to doing some of his TA work in between classes on the days Keith was working. Keith had even given him his hours, and once—with flaming cheeks that made Shiro’s heart thump out of his chest—had scrawled his phone number under Shiro’s name on his coffee cup. When Shiro had seen it, he’d glanced up to see Keith glaring at him as if to dare him to say something about it, face such an adorable shade of red that Shiro carried the mental image around with him for days afterwards.

They hadn’t stopped texting since.

Shiro had learned that Keith was on a scholarship at the university as well, meaning he technically didn’t  _ have _ to work, but that he chose to because Keith didn’t like being still. He learned that Keith had been self-sufficient for almost his entire teenage life, which meant that he was stubborn about accepting help from others (learned the hard way when Shiro offered to help Keith with an assignment and was quickly shut down), but when he realised he genuinely needed it he wouldn’t hesitate to ask (learned later on when Keith returned to Shiro with his shoulders hunched, an awkward apology on his lips as he stated that he really would like some help after all).

He learned that Lance and Keith hadn’t ever really gotten along well during the classes they had together, but that Keith had developed a grudging respect for Lance once Lance had learned not to be so eager to show off. That Keith wanted to visit Mars. That he sang occasionally, but was embarrassed about singing in public.

Keith’s favourite coffee was a mocha with an extra shot. Large, preferably. He was lactose intolerant but hated lactose free dairy, and so put up with the hell normal milk gave him.

Keith liked stargazing.

Shiro fell asleep sometimes with mental scenarios about taking Keith out to one of the old lookouts, where they’d lay there and watch the stars together for hours on end. He’d clutch his phone with a half written message out, drifting off to sleep because he was up so late talking to Keith, and imagine.

.o0o.

“Dude, just ask him out.”

“How do I know whether he likes me though?”

“I swear to god, I’ll go through your lovesick messages myself and prove it to you that he does.”

“They aren’t  _ lovesick _ .”

“You signed off you last one with three smiley faces and a kiss emoji.”

“…Okay so they’re a  _ little _ lovesick.”

“My point is, if you don’t ask him out on a date soon I’m going to have to do it for you, because hearing about how dreamy he is all day every day is starting to make  _ me _ want to date him. And I don’t even like dudes!”

Shiro groaned dramatically.

Lance was sitting at the other end of his couch, flipping through his Combinatorics textbook while he casually chewed Shiro out about his ‘pining harder than a tree’, as Lance put it—a statement he resolutely stood by despite the fact Shiro pointed out it made no sense.

It was a little bit of a bruise to his ego when Shiro discovered that Lance had finally asked Allura out on a date, and was waiting to hear back from her about what she wished to do. Shiro was still stuck in a ‘but does he like me, though’ mindset with Keith, and couldn’t quite summon up the gall to outright ask. He valued what they had, and worried that taking it that one step further might ruin everything, and it was a risk he wasn’t quite brave enough to take.

“Seriously, man,” Lance said over his text book when Shiro didn’t answer, “Hunk told me he caught him drawing your face in one of their classes. Three times. At this rate, he’s going to be drawing  _ Mister Keith Shirogane _ all over his work and practicing his new signature. Please spare us all the second hand embarrassment.”

Shiro couldn’t help but warm at that information. The knowledge that Keith was so downright  _ embarrassing _ was adorable, but it also made it just a tiny bit easier.

Bless Lance’s friends.

“Fine,” Shiro said with a heavy exhale. “Fine. I’ll ask him. But if this goes wrong, I’m dragging you and Hunk around the track for three hours straight in retaliation.”

“Sure thing, dude.”

Lance’s less than worried look that such a thing would ever happened helped to seal Shiro’s resolve even more.

He was going to ask Keith on a date.

A proper date.

It would be wonderful and romantic and they’d have a lovely time together.

Easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

The coffee shop closed late on Thursdays. Keith stayed back to do the lock up, sometimes accompanied by Shiro, who liked to help him occasionally. It was an excuse to spend a little more time with him before they parted ways for the night, and Keith never seemed to mind.

This Thursday though, Shiro had plans. With their conflicting schedules during the week, and Keith’s obligations with the band on Friday nights, Thursday was Shiro’s only chance to really take him out. It sucked that he had to wait until after nine to do so, but he figured Keith would be at least a little peckish after a long shift.

So he waited in his car for a while, and when his nervous energy became too much for him to contain he got out and bounced nervously on his toes by the wall of the shop.

He’d been planning it meticulously since he agreed to Lance that he’d ask.

Keith would finish work, hungry and maybe just a little bit adorably tired. Shiro would meet him out the front with a suave smile and a clever one-liner, at which point he would ask if Keith was interested in a drink, or maybe a nice meal. Keith would smile and say it was the best idea he’d ever heard, and they would drive to a nice restaurant (or maybe a pub depending on what Keith felt like), where they would laugh and talk until the early hours.

Shiro would drop Keith home afterwards, and Keith would flush and wish him goodnight, and they’d share a sweet kiss on his doorstep before Shiro texted him later to tell him he had a wonderful time and would love to have dinner together again soon.

Easy.

Shiro was dragged out of his daydream when the door of the shop tinkled, Keith stepping out onto the street with a sigh as he turned to lock it behind him. Shiro kicked off the wall he was leaning with, teeth worrying his bottom lip as his nerves grew, suddenly certain that this was a terrible idea and Keith would be sure to say no, and he should just leave before he made a fool of himself.

Fuck. What would he do if Keith said no? Would things be awkward? Would he have to find a new favourite coffee shop? Would he no longer be welcome in the bar?

Shiro had a split second mental image of his face plastered on a ‘wanted’ type poster, banning him for life from entry to the Lass O’Gowrie for life.

_Fuck it._

Deep breath. He could do this. Keith liked him—all sources agreed with that assessment. At worst, Shiro had misread the signals. At best, he’d get a date with a man who kept Shiro up at night on a regular basis.

Mind made up, Shiro crossed the sidewalk quickly, hoping the words wouldn’t spill out of his mouth in an uncontrolled blabber before he’d properly wrapped his tongue around them.

“Hey, Keith—”

Shiro barely got to so much as finish those two words.

Keith had been rummaging in his pocket by the door, cursing under his breath when Shiro approached. Instead of calling for him to announce his presence first, Shiro had made the rookie error of reaching to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder, causing the other to jump violently in alarm.

Keith whirled with a speed that startled Shiro into a delayed response, and before Shiro could call out a hold, he found his arm caught in a vice like grip twisted painfully behind him, shoved face first against the bricks. Shiro let out a surprised yelp before the wind was knocked out of his lungs, and his head collided painfully with the wall.

“Keith,” Shiro wheezed, dazed enough that little white lights blinked in front of his eyes. Something in his shoulder clicked and he hissed in pain.

“Shiro?” In a split second the grip was gone, and Shiro stumbled backwards with a grunt. “Jesus, Shiro. You scared me.”

“Clearly,” Shiro said with a rasp. He rolled his shoulder with a grimace, turning to give Keith an incredulous look. “I think you busted my arm.”

“Couldn’t have,” Keith replied right away. “That manoeuvre isn’t design to break…arms…” He trailed off with a flush when Shiro just levelled him with a bemused stare. “Sorry. Why were you creeping up on me, anyway?”

“I wasn’t _creeping_ ,” Shiro stuck his chin out in mock offence. “I was waiting for you to finish.”

“…Why?”

Shiro opened his mouth, then abruptly snapped it shut again when he realised this was going precisely _not_ how he’d carefully imagined it. Shit. _Shit_ . Keith was looking at him with open curiosity, eyes bright in the half light of the street lamp, and it was so unexplainably adorable that any words Shiro _might_ have had died in his throat anyway.

“I was…uh…”

Keith’s expression flickered then, mouth quirking in amusement. He folded his arms and shifted his weight to one leg, now expectant rather than curious, like he’d figured Shiro out without any effort to it at all.

Bastard.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” Shiro huffed, and then flushed at the raised brow it earned him. He scratched the back of his neck with an awkward laugh, half hoping the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a drink or something. Just us. But you broke my shoulder, so I’m withdrawing my offer.”

Keith’s eyes glittered with mirth, the half smirk on his face widening just a fraction. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Shiro deflated at that. “Damn.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Shiro rolled his shoulder again, wincing at both the residual ache there and the disappointment curling in his belly. “Probably just a concussion. Nothing major.”

The amused look dropped in an instant, and Keith stepped forward with a furrow to his brow and concern radiating from him like heat. “You hit your head? Fuck, I didn’t realise. Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Shiro brushed it off with a slightly forced laugh, and by the twitch in Keith’s expression, he wan’t convincing in the slightest. “I didn’t _really_ hit my head.” Hard. “Plus, I completely deserve it for sneaking up on you. Lesson learned. Anyway, I should probably head off then you know…don’t want to keep you up if you have to work in the morning.”

“How are you getting home?” Keith interrupted before Shiro could edge away.

Shiro tilted his head in confusion. “My car?”

Keith shook his head abruptly. “You’re not driving if you hit your head.”

“Keith, I’m fine.” It wasn’t a bad hit anyway. Shiro was feeling perfectly normal already, though he’d probably have a bit of a headache later. And really he would very much like to run away and hide after his failed attempt at asking for a date.

“Nope. Sorry. I knocked you out,” Keith said stubbornly, earning a snort for his dramatics. He uncrossed his arms in order to hold his hand out expectantly. “Give me your keys. I’m driving you home.”

Shiro locked him with a stony expression, having no intention whatsoever of handing over his keys. Keith met it with an equally ferocious glare, outstretched hand curling intently, refusing to budge an inch. They stood there like that for what seemed like ages—though it was probably only a minute or so—until Shiro realised that he was definitely fighting a losing battle, and sighed heavily in defeat.

Besides, once he realised what Keith was offering, he couldn’t figure out why he was even trying to fight it.

Keith took the keys with a triumphant grin. He followed Shiro to his car and veered around to the drivers side, sliding in without an ounce of hesitation. Shiro, meanwhile, made a show of grumbling obnoxiously as he climbed into the passenger seat, and then played up his ‘injuries’ even more by pretending to struggle to do his seatbelt up, earning himself a scoff for his efforts.

“Come on, it’s not _that_ bad.”

“Says the guy insisting on driving me home because he’s worried I’ve got a head injury,” Shiro quipped back, and Keith snorted.

“Point taken.”

They drove to Shiro’s place in companionable silence, neither really finding the need to break it with small talk. Shiro directed Keith with quiet murmurs, and Keith followed them easily until they were weaving their way back through the familiar streets of Shiro’s neighbourhood. At one point Shiro flicked on the radio, grinning broadly at Keith when he switched it to the top 40 station despite Keith’s groan of protest, and Shiro spent the rest of the trip bobbing his head along to catchy tunes that Keith pretended to scoff at.

They pulled into Shiro’s apartment complex some 20 minutes later. Keith steered neatly into the tight parking space beneath the building, and when he turned the car off they both sat there in the silence for a minute, Keith staring at the dash and Shiro somewhat nervously wondering what the hell he should do next.

“Thanks for the lift,” Shiro said.

“No problem,” Keith replied lightly.

The silence fell again, turning a tinge awkward.

“So…uh. Do you want to come in?” Shiro finally asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as forcefully nonchalant as it seemed.

Keith just smiled and nodded once.

Shiro’s apartment was small, but it wasn’t suffocating. There was enough space just for him, which was precisely how he liked it. He could scatter his things about in barely controlled chaos and not have to worry about roommates breaking his things, and quite comfortably wander around in his underwear because the thermostat was always set to the right temperature.

Except for when Lance appeared and almost always immediately claimed that the place was too cold, so he’d turn the temperature up until Shiro was slow roasting.

Keith glanced around the place with clear interest once he stepped inside. He kicked his shoes off by the door and shuffled across to the middle of the living room, gazing at the pictures on the shelves with his hands in his pockets.

He cut such a breathtaking silhouette in even such a simple pose that Shiro had to pause by the door and knock some sense into himself before he meandered past. Just so he didn’t try anything that might get his ass handed to him again.

“Drink?”

There wasn’t much in his fridge, honestly. He’d been neglecting to go shopping for food for the last few days, and had instead opted for cheap takeout and frozen ready-meals, so the lone few bottles of beer and a half full bottle of wine stuck out in the door like a group of accusatory sore thumbs.

“Is that craft beer?” Keith peered over his new spot on the living room side of the kitchen bench, squinting at the beer with interest.

Shiro pulled one of the bottles free and handed it over with a sheepish grin. “Yeah. I like trying them out. They usually taste better than the pisswater you buy at the grocer.”

“So you _do_ have taste in something other than coffee,” Keith said with a grin. He twisted the cap off and took a sip, eyes full of mirth as he watched Shiro do the same.

“Excuse me,” Shiro huffed in mock offense. “I have taste. I’m just not a music snob like _some_ of us.”

“Mm, name one thing.” Keith was stirring, his teasing playful, and Shiro felt himself growing bold.

“I like to think I have pretty good taste in men.”

“Men, huh?” Keith’s tone piqued. He was interested, and Shiro’s stomach tripped over itself in response.

“Yep.” Shiro leaned on the counter and fixed Keith with a look, hoping his expression was hiding the way his heart pounded in his chest. He was usually _never_ this forward—only ever having one person in his life in the past made him self conscious when it came to flirting, but fuck it. Keith was gorgeous and he was responsive, and Shiro must have been doing something right.  “I’m usually right, too.”

Keith quirked a brow, the smirk never leaving his face and _god_ the spark in his eyes made Shiro want to melt on the spot. There was tension in the air that had been building at a rate of knots from the moment Keith had shut off the car, and it was rapidly reaching a point of no return. Shiro’s head was fuzzy with it, adrenaline coursing through him making him feel confident and daring. The way Keith seemed to be reciprocating his advances was doing wonders for his ego, too.

“So tell me a little more about your tastes.” Oh, Keith was _definitely_ playing this game with him. Shiro had been cautiously hopeful for weeks now, but he knew a tipping point when he was met with one.

Shiro straightened and stepped back from the kitchen bench, working to keep his face cool and feigning disinterest. He took a sip of his beer as he stepped out of the kitchen into the living area, and tried not to swagger too obviously as he moved past Keith. Keith, whose eyes were burning holes in him with the intensity of his gaze.

“Mm, I have a thing for dark hair,” Shiro said lightly. He kept up his pretence of nonchalance as he reached his music player to switch it on. The music wasn’t exactly _mood setting_ , but it was better than utter silence in the background of their conversation.

“Hips or legs?”

Shiro turned and shot Keith a smirk. Keith’s eyes were narrowed slightly with the smile playing his lips, the combination being a devastatingly coquettish look that had heat tingling with promise under Shiro’s skin.

He made a show of running his eyes the length of Keith’s legs as he took a sip of his beer, and was delighted to see the faint tinge of pink that appeared on Keith’s face.

“Legs,” Shiro said finally. “Definitely legs.”

Keith snorted, the colour on his cheeks darkening. “I’m more of a shoulders man, myself.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm,” Keith placed his beer to the side and folded his arms. “I like them nice and broad so they make good leg rests.”

Shiro nearly choked on his drink.

He licked his lips and placed his drink aside, sauntering over to Keith with no concern anymore for the game of charade they had been playing. Keith had thrown down the gauntlet good and proper, and Shiro was going to run with it.

Keith took hold of his arms as he came near, sliding them up the curve of Shiro’s bare shoulders to squeeze appreciatively, sending a shiver down Shiro’s spine at the gesture.

“The wider the better,” Keith purred. “These need a warning sign.”

Their breath was mingling now, close enough to taste but teasing just out of reach. Shiro let his hands drop to Keith’s hips in a tight grip, with little care that his fingers were stuck against the kitchen bench behind him. They weren’t quite fully pressed together, but it was a close thing, and Shiro could all but taste the tension as they waited for one or the other to snap.

“You do this with all the boys you knock flat outside of work?” Shiro breathed against Keith’s lips, smirking when he felt the grin Keith returned.

“Only the ones who let me drive them home.”

When they finally met, it was like a firecracker going off. Keith surged upwards, closing miniscule distance between them to steal Shiro’s lips in a hard kiss that swept Shiro’s breath from his lungs and left him dizzy. He returned with equal enthusiasm, tasting the alcohol on Keith’s lips, both of them clinging to one another while they swayed, completely lost to instinct.

Only the kitchen bench kept them upright as they devoured each other. Keith’s hands were everywhere, clawing at his chest and arms and clutching at the back of his neck, and Shiro kept a firm hold of Keith’s hips and lower back so that they were anchored in place with his own body while he let himself be washed away in Keith.

Keith was relentless. Everywhere he touched lit a fire under Shiro’s skin, his kisses stealing Shiro’s breath leaving him helpless and wanting more.  He felt Keith’s tongue swipe at his lips, which he parted easily to allow Keith in with a quiet groan, drawing his hand up to rest at the nape of Keith’s neck.

“Should have you drive me home more often,” Shiro breathed against Keith’s mouth. The comment earned him a chuckle, and he shifted to nuzzle against Keith’s neck with a grin.

“You’d be letting me beat you up on the regular for the privilege,” Keith replied.

His sentence tapered off into a tiny whine as Shiro sucked lightly at his pulse. The hands at Shiro’s shoulder blades dragged their way down Shiro’s back, pulling them closer until Shiro had one leg wedged between Keith’s thighs and Keith’s head fell back with a sigh to bare more of his pale skin to Shiro.

Shiro’s free hand swept down Keith’s side, bunching his shirt up so he could pull the damned thing up and finally touch Keith’s skin properly. Keith was warm, his flat stomach jumping under Shiro’s touch when Shiro ghosted his hand across his abdomen.

They broke apart for little more than air as they lost themselves in one another. Shiro’s mind was hazy, registering little more than the warmth of Keith’s skin; the press of his body and the taste of his lips. And then Keith’s leg hitched itself over one of Shiro’s hips and his mind went down a new track entirely.

“Bedroom?” Shiro breathed, moving again to lick his way down Keith’s neck to the hollow of his throat.

“Bedroom,” Keith rasped, and his grip at Shiro’s hips tightened momentarily before he pushed Shiro back, straightening off the bench with fire in his eyes.

What followed was a slightly amusing trail of the pair of them bumping into furniture and knocking stuff over as Shiro tried to lead Keith to his room. They could hardly keep their hands to themselves long enough for Shiro to register which way he was facing, to the detriment of a picture frame or two as he slid across the wall in the hallway while Keith sucked at his throat.

They made it though, eventually. Shiro kicked the door open and dragged Keith inside, both of them toppling unceremoniously onto the bed in a mess of tangled limbs and half dislodged clothes. Keith’s shirt was hanging by his neck and his pants were undone, and Shiro’s singlet was gone entirely, thrown aside somewhere in the hallway to be worried about later. The press of Keith’s skin against his own for the first time had heat searing through Shiro’s body, the touch fire at every point they met.

As soon as he had him on the bed, Keith pressed Shiro flat and moved to his neck where he proceeded to drive Shiro crazy with bites and sucks hard enough to make him whine. Keith’s mouth was hot and feverish, the trail he was leaving blowing cool in the air of the room, and the juxtaposition of both was a sensory ecstasy leaving Shiro arching into every touch.

There was no way he could fail to miss the way Keith paid special attention to his chest.

“Like what you see there?” Shiro asked with a shaky laugh.

Keith sat up, frowning at Shiro in mock offence. “These babies should be worshipped and I intend to do so,” he said. To drive his point home, he squeezed Shiro’s pecs hard enough that Shiro gave a startled laugh, entirely _not_ used to having someone do that to him.

The laugh was cut off in another kiss as Keith leaned forward and finally stretched his body the length of Shiro’s. Shiro shuddered with anticipation when he realised that Keith was hard against him, and without breaking the kiss he rolled his hips upwards, earning a quiet keen into his mouth for his trouble.

“Fuck,” Keith whispered against his mouth. “I’ve fantasized about this so much, you have no idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Shiro replied with a nip to Keith’s bottom lip. “What sort of things did you imagine?”

“Everything. Anything. Whatever my horny brain could come up with.”

The fact that he was able to have such an effect on Keith—even when he had no idea he was doing so—was enough to have Shiro preening internally.

“Care to demonstrate?” Shiro said with a squeeze of Keith’s ass.

Keith bit his bottom lip through his grin and rolled his hips into Shiro’s again, causing them both to groan. In lieu of answering, Keith ducked his head to Shiro’s collarbone and resumed his journey south, teasing him with a combination of bites and licks and sucks.

Shiro let out a shuddery exhale under Keith’s touches, his hand moving to Keith’s hair while he watched him make his way down his stomach. To say that he hadn’t fantasized about this too would be a bald faced lie, but the imaginary sensations of an imaginary mouth on his skin could never compare to the real thing. Where Keith bit, tingles skittered across him in little electric shocks; where he sucked, heat curled beneath and radiated deep. Shiro was drunk on those sensations alone—he was a wreck and Keith hadn’t even started yet.

Keith watched him through lidded eyes as he pulled the button of Shiro’s pants. Shiro propped himself up on his elbows with breath stuck in his chest, returning Keith’s heady stare with his own wide eyed gaze.

The first touch of Keith’s hand on his still clothed dick had Shiro choking back a groan. His head fell back and his eyes closed, breath leaving him in a shuddery sigh. Keith hummed, and Shiro vaguely registered more movement before he was freed entirely of his confines. His head snapped back up just in time to see Keith lick his bottom lip before he leaned down and nuzzed at his length, the heat of his breath causing Shiro’s hips to jump just slightly.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Keith whispered. “Look at you.”

The praise had Shiro flushing impossibly deeper under his already coloured cheeks. He wanted to return the favour; to tell Keith that _he_ was the one who was gorgeous and that Shiro was just a lucky son of a bitch who caught his interest—but before he could, Keith took hold of his cock and gave a few languid strokes, before taking him into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Holy… _shit_ ,” Shiro managed. He had to stop himself from jerking upwards on reflex, because Keith’s mouth was beautifully hot and wet and Shiro had _no_ desire to end this too soon by accidentally choking him.

Keith hummed around him, and the vibrations sent shards of electricity up and down Shiro’s spine. His toes curled with the rhythm Keith picked up and he couldn’t take his eyes off him; the sight of Keith’s lips around his cock was addictive, and Shiro would be seeing it in his fantasies for a long time afterwards.

Keith worked him effortlessly. He braced one arm across Shiro’s pelvis so he couldn’t drive upwards, and used the other to twist and tease where his mouth couldn’t reach. The result was heat building quickly—way too quickly for Shiro. He wanted to draw it out—wanted to feel Keith’s mouth until Keith got tired of it; that delicious combination of friction and drag that had Shiro breathless and weak kneed.

Keith drew back and gave a languid suck at the head, and Shiro lifted one hand to tangle in dark hair while Keith built up his pace. The motion only served to spur Keith on apparently, as he shifted slightly higher on the mattress so that he could swiftly swallow Shiro down whole.

“God, Keith,” Shiro whimpered. “You’re so fucking good…”

He dropped back onto the bed, no longer using his arms to hold him up any more. There was nothing but the heat of Keith’s and the way his throat constricted around the intrusion, and before long Shiro was a blithering mess on the bed with his fingers in Keith’s hair and his hips rolling lazily upwards to meet the downward strokes of Keith’s rhythm.

Keith pulled back with an exaggerated smacking sound, grinning smugly up at Shiro while he jerked him with languid strokes.

“You look so good from this angle,” he purred, and Shiro all but whimpered.

He wasn’t going to last like this.

The coil of heat in his belly threatened to tighten beyond return, and Shiro inhaled sharply as he tried to calm himself down. Keith was still stroking him, but Shiro could only see the stars behind his eyelids as he washed away with the sensation.

And all too quickly, Keith’s ministrations stopped.

Shiro’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head in surprise, but was caught by Keith climbing back up his body and smashing their lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. Keith rolled his hips hard into Shiro’s, who groaned deep in his chest through the kiss as need rapidly began to overtake the want to draw things out.

“Lube,” Keith groaned against Shiro’s mouth.

“Top drawer,” Shiro rasped.

Abruptly, the heat of Keith’s body was gone. Shiro sat up dazedly, turning to watch Keith rummage around his sock drawer.

He still had his shirt around his neck, and his pants were half around his thighs. The mess of barely dislodged clothes was so endearing that Shiro smiled privately, having to cover his mouth with his hand and turn away. He doubted Keith would be entirely receptive to being called _adorable_.

“Found it,” Keith said triumphantly. “Honestly, only you would keep your supplies in your _sock drawer_. Do you have a special sock, too?”

“Fuck off,” Shiro laughed. He crawled over to Keith where he climbed back onto the bed, kissing him much less desperately now and more languid than before.

He finished undressing Keith slowly, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. And to Shiro, that’s kind of what it felt like. Keith was a jewel in Shiro’s otherwise plain life, and he had every intention of showing him that—to the best of his ability, anyway.

When Keith was finally liberated from his clothes, he leaned up and kissed Shiro lazily while he returned the favour. Shiro’s pants were thrown off in a random direction, and he crawled to lay over Keith so he could pepper his neck and collarbone with affectionate kisses.

“How do you want to do this?” Shiro asked against the just of Keith’s neck.

Keith pressed lightly at his shoulders, indicating Shiro should move back. When he did so, Keith rolled over onto his stomach, grabbed one of the pillows to rest his head on and shoved his arms beneath it. With his back arched and his ass thrust out beautifully, he turned to give Shiro an expectant look.

“This way,” Keith said simply.

“Christ,” Shiro whispered softly.

He took the lube Keith shoved at him and moved to settle over the back of Keith’s thighs, leaning forward to kiss tenderly across his shoulders and the nape of his neck. Keith laughed softly through his nose, relaxed in a way that made Shiro feel warm in the chest.

He didn’t stop his trail of kisses as he slicked up his fingers, nor while he spent a minute warming it before trailing his other hand down Keith’s sides and over the curve of his ass. Keith shivered a little under the touch, and Shiro pulled back only to watch as he circled a finger at Keith’s entrance.

Keith groaned long and low with the first breach. His head dropped forward onto the pillow, and he moved his hips to meet Shiro’s finger with a sigh. Shiro watched him intently, wanting to pick up on every little twitch and movement that told him Keith liked what he was doing.

It was lazy and slow. Shiro took his time turning Keith to water beneath him, slowly adding a second and then finally a third, curling his fingers in such a way that made Keith give a pitched “ _Oh!”_  and grip the pillow in his clenched fists.

“Shiro,” Keith breathed. He turned to look over his shoulder, eyes bright and face flushed beautifully.

Shiro sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, the sight of Keith laid out and gazing at him in such a seductive way snapping the last thread of his patience. Keith groaned as Shiro withdrew his fingers and watched like a hawk while Shiro tore open a condom with his teeth to roll on with his clean hand.

As he slicked himself up, Shiro leaned over Keith again to kiss his bitten and rosy lips. Honestly, he could spend an eternity just kissing Keith and be happy.  But Keith was now nudging backwards insistently, his want clear in his actions, so Shiro broke the kiss off with a snicker and moved to position himself properly.

He settled over Keith’s thighs, watching Keith intently as he leaned over him.

“Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for it since the day you first forgot you were my fucking TA,” Keith said impatiently. “ _Hurry up._ ”

Shiro laughed again, earning a frustrated sound from Keith. But Keith’s noise tapered off into a shocked groan when Shiro pushed forward, his cock finally easing past the tight ring of muscle into Keith’s welcoming heat.

“Ohh… _fuck_ …” Keith breathed. He dropped his head onto the pillow, and Shiro felt his knees bend behind him and drop back to the bed with a weak thump as he took Shiro in.

Keith was hot and beautifully tight around Shiro. The angle and his careful prep allowed Shiro to slide home relatively easily, until he was fully buried in Keith’s body with a shuddery sigh. He leaned forward, draping himself over Keith’s back and braced himself with his elbows, body sparking as Keith squirmed beneath him to allow the movement.

“God, you’re so hot,” Shiro groaned into Keith’s hair. He peppered kisses at Keith’s temple, where the hair was tangled with sweat. “Feel so good.”

Shiro kept himself still for a moment to allow Keith time to adjust, and only began to move when Keith shifted insistently under him. He drew back slowly, keeping himself still once he’d almost completely withdrawn, and then rocked forward with a little more force, earning himself a shuddery exhale from Keith below him. Shiro repeated the motion twice more, before he propped himself up on his hands and began to pick up a steady rhythm, gradually building speed.

Keith was surprisingly noisy beneath him. With every jerk of Shiro’s hips forward he let out a small noise of pleasure, his face twisted up in ecstasy. The small noises grew louder when Shiro angled his hips, focusing on hitting that part of Keith that would drive him to completion at hurtling speed.

It was divine. Shiro’s breath was short and hard in his chest and his lip was a permanently bitten mess, but he didn’t slow down. Keith was so hot beneath him and around him and Shiro was driving in deep, never taking his eyes off him.

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro rasped. He reached forward and tangled a hand in Keith’s hair, anchoring himself at the nape of Keith’s neck as he rapidly felt himself losing any sense of coordination.

Heat curled in his pelvis in a lazy roll, sending little tendrils through his belly and into his spine, and Shiro couldn’t remember ever feeling this good. He was drunk on the sounds Keith was making, the way his body moved even pinned where he was, the flush on his face and the burn of him enveloping Shiro.

Dropping to his elbows again, Shiro wrapped his arms beneath Keith’s torso and across his chest, holding him tight as the pace picked up to a relentless degree. Keith was spilling nonsense from his mouth now, sweat decorating the back of his neck and every point Shiro’s skin met his, and Shiro breathed heavily with exertion with his head settled on Keith’s shoulder. The lazy pleasure in Shiro’s belly began growing at a rapid pace, tightening and spreading until Shiro couldn’t tell which way was up anymore and all that mattered was that he fuck into Keith until neither of them knew their names.

“Shiro!” Keith cried—the only coherent thing he’d managed in the last ten minutes—“I’m so close…fuck I’m so close…”

With single minded determination, Shiro managed to jam his hand between Keith’s hips and the bed and grab hold of him, jerking him as best as he could with Keith pinned to the bed. It took a grand total of about ten seconds before Keith’s body was arching, his mouth open in a wordless cry as he shook and shuddered and clenched so tightly around Shiro that Shiro was shocked into following along with him.

Shiro came with guttural moans, driving himself as deep and hard as possible until he was utterly, completely spent.

They lay there like that, with Shiro draped over Keith, resting his head at Keith’s shoulder while they both gasped for breath in the wake of their climax. Keith was boneless, and Shiro was only just barely holding his weight up so that he wasn’t pressing Keith completely into the bed, and when Keith turned his head they caught their breath between lazy unhurried kisses.

“Damn,” Shiro finally said, and; “what?” When Keith began sniggering beneath him.

“You fuck me with an inch of my life and the first thing you can say is ‘damn’?”

“Shut up.” Shiro proceeded to do just that and cut off Keith’s slightly feverish laughter with a messy kiss.

After a few minutes he eased himself free of Keith’s body, peppering Keith’s shoulders with kisses when he shifted in discomfort. Shiro disposed of the mess and slid off the bed to grab a warm washer, which he used to clean Keith up before flopping back onto the bed with him.

Keith was watching him with a sleepy, content look. He’d barely moved in the time it took Shiro to throw away the rubbish and clean him up, but once Shiro was settled on the bed properly, Keith scooted over a little to rest against Shiro’s side.

“’M gonna have to clean the duvet tomorrow,” Shiro mumbled into Keith’s hair. “Worth it.”

Keith huffed another laugh and curled in closer, his breath fanning in a sigh across Shiro’s chest.

“Should probably go,” Keith mumbled, but made no move to do so.

“You don’t have a car.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Shit.”

Shiro laughed and kissed Keith’s forehead, then shuffled around on the bed until he had them both under the covers (conspicuously _away_ from the wet spot). He traced patterns in Keith’s skin until Keith’s breath evened out, and with a quiet smile on his face, Shiro followed into a deep, dreamless sleep.

.o0o.

Shiro woke the next morning to muffled curses and not-so-quiet shuffling about his bedroom. It took a split second for him to register that he hadn’t slept alone last night, and he cracked his eyes open to see Keith’s dim form in the half-light of morning scratching around the bedroom in a flap, turning over articles of clothing and tripping over others in his rush.  

“Keith?”

Keith jumped about a mile, and turned to stare at Shiro like a deer caught in headlights. He had a pair of pants clutched in his hand and had half pulled on his underwear, making him look comically dishevelled. “Did I wake you?”

“Only a little,” Shiro replied with a sleepy smile. “You’re leaving?”

Keith was quiet for a second before he shuffled over to Shiro and planted a firm kiss on his mouth.

“Not like that,” Keith said. And then he grinned sheepishly. “I’m late for work.”

“Oh. Oh, shit.”

Shiro pulled himself up despite Keith’s half-hearted protests and slid out of bed to help him find his clothes. He’d completely forgotten that Keith was supposed to be working; they’d both been way too preoccupied to worry about that.

He found Keith’s t-shirt by the bed, rumpled and creased but still passable. Keith already had his pants on, and they ventured out into the hallway to find the rest of his clothes while Keith tried desperately to smooth his hair.

“You can have a shower, you know,” Shiro offered. “I have a spare toothbrush.”

“If I shower I’m gonna try and drag you in there with me, and then I’ll completely ruin any chance at all of ever turning up to work today,” Keith said stubbornly. “…But I will take that toothbrush.”

Shiro laughed, hard pressed not to say that he had no problem with that turn of events and to just call work a lost cause today. He led Keith into the bathroom and showed him where things were with the instruction to at _least_ freshen up a little, and headed back into the bedroom so that he could dress too and make a passable attempt at looking alive.

When Keith emerged he was much more fresh-faced. There was still the hint of a mark at his collarbone visible, dusky on Keith’s pale skin, and it set off little prickles under Shiro’s skin to see it.

And then when Keith came near, and Shiro caught a whiff of his own cologne, he found himself hard pressed not to scoop Keith up and take him straight back into the bedroom.

Instead, he pulled Keith in for a lazy kiss, nosing at his neck and temple while he revelled in the weirdly territorial sensation of enjoying his own scent on Keith.

“Nice aftershave,” he murmured against Keith’s neck, earning himself a laugh.

“Thanks,” Keith replied. “It’s gonna keep me hard all day.”

Shiro snorted and they pulled back to disentangle. For a moment their eyes locked, and Shiro found himself caught in Keith’s dark gaze.

There was something building in his chest, heavy and overwhelming, adorned with emotions that Shiro wasn’t ready to address just yet. In the way Keith moved, the way he looked, the way he smelled and spoke and sang—everything about him added fuel to that growing something, and the heavy look in his eyes only reeled Shiro on more—a split second of something between them that they couldn’t address just yet for the seriousness and terror of the moment.

The moment snapped, and Shiro stepped back with a smile.

“Come on, I’ll take you to work.”

“You don’t have to,” Keith huffed. “I can call a cab. It’s early.”

Shiro shook his head. “Nope. I’m taking you to work like a domestic queen. Come on. I need a decent coffee anyway.”

Keith shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I’m beginning to think you only like me for my coffee.”

“And your snobby music,” Shiro said brightly as he grabbed his keys and waited for Keith to step outside. “Don’t forget your snobby music.”

“Right, and my snobby music,” Keith laughed.

The ride back to the coffee shop was comfortable. Keith checked his phone and complained about the fact his alarm hadn’t gone off like it should have (it had, Keith had just sleepily turned it off before Shiro was awake enough to register what it meant), and Shiro kept one hand on his thigh for the majority of the ride, giving it a gentle squeeze every so often just because he could. They travelled in relative silence, but it was nothing like the almost-awkward of the night before—this was easy; the kind of silence of two people who didn’t need to fill it with meaningless conversation to enjoy each others company. Shiro’s heart was swollen in his chest the entire time.

At one point he even pinched himself, just to make sure the entirety of the last twelve hours wasn’t some weird fever dream.

When they pulled up Keith leaned over without a moment hesitation and pressed a chaste, lingering kiss to Shiro’s mouth. Shiro melted into it, unable to suppress the grin that slipped through.

“What?” Keith asked with a smile when he pulled away.

Shiro shook his head and chased Keith’s kiss with one of his own. “Nothing. Just thanking Jesus for making me dumb enough to sneak up on you at night time so you’d give me a head injury and try and break my shoulder. I should do it again.”

Keith laughed. The sound was so sweet and perfect that Shiro had a moment where he had to sigh internally like a lovestruck teen.

“You don’t have to sneak up on me to get some,” Keith said with a mischievous grin. “You have my number.” He glanced out the window. “I should go in though, I’m late enough as it is.”

“Okay,” Shiro kissed Keith’s knuckles one more time before letting him go so he could slip out of the car. “See you.”

He spent the rest of the day in a happy state of serenity, pointedly ignoring the knowing look he received from Lance every time they crossed paths between classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.
> 
> Art in this chapter by [Rory.](http://memapod.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

Following that very first night they spent together, Shiro and Keith hardly found themselves apart in their free time. Given their conflicting schedules and extra-curricular work, their free time was few and far between, but even when busy with their commitments they found moments to sneak messages to one another constantly.

Shiro readily admitted to himself after about two weeks that he was heavily smitten. There was no point attempting to deny it; Keith had accidentally fallen into his life in one disaster of a conversation at a hipster bar, and had made a home for himself there so easily that Shiro wouldn’t remove him even if he wanted to. 

Keith had stayed at his place several times now, of which he didn’t have to abandon early due to work. They were some of the most relaxed days Shiro had had since he could remember. They lay around, they fucked, they played video games and ordered takeout, and neither of them gave a single care to the outside world. It was a little bubble of bliss reserved just for them, without distractions and interruptions, when they could just enjoy one another's company.

Every Friday was spent at the bar, in increasingly familiar company with Allura (who had finally figured out what she wanted of her date with Lance: it had to be something ‘fun’ (“What the fuck does that mean?” Lance had bemoaned Shiro in the phone call that night)) and her quirky, spirited father figure, Coran—who, as it turned out, owned the Lass O’Gowrie and proclaimed himself the manager of Careful Suggestion given his previous musical history playing the branching corrugahorn. 

Which was a real instrument. 

Shiro asked.

Twice. 

It felt like in no time at all, Shiro’s life had effortlessly shifted to allow Keith  entry, like he was meant to be there all along and Shiro just didn’t know it. They hadn’t put any formal name to what they were, but neither of them really felt the need to. They were just content, and that was all that mattered. 

That was all that Shiro really wanted. 

Of course, his life wouldn’t ever be what it was without the universe throwing him some curveball designed to test his resilience.

.o0o.

_ [1646] Shiro: How do you feel about nightclubs? _

_ [1653] Keith: personally i prefer department stores _

_ [1653] Keith: but i have no strong feelings one way or the other. _

_ [1654] Shiro: Aren’t you just the comedian. Lol. Lance wants to go out tonight after your gig. A group of us. Allura won’t let him take her out alone yet. _

_ [1658] Keith: hard to see why. _

_ [1658] Shiro: I’m sensing sarcasm. _

_ [1659] Keith: from me? never.  _

_ [1659] Shiro: Do you want to come out after the performance? _

_ [1700] Keith: lol youre such an old man.  _

_ [1700] Keith: ‘performance’ _

_ [1703] Shiro: :( _

_ [1704] Keith: sure ill come out with you. im not a very good dancer though _

_ [1712] Shiro: You’re the best dancer to me :) _

_ [1713] Keith: wow gay _

 

Shiro made a special effort to look good that night. He wasn’t normally one to frequent nightclubs—the lights and music had a tendency to give him headaches that had nothing to do with alcohol—but he was excited to go out with Keith no matter the destination, so he was looking forward to it just this once. 

With his hair artfully dishevelled and a spritz of cologne, Shiro deemed himself nightclub appropriate. It was only a few minutes later that Lance arrived to pick him up, and they were off to the Lass to watch the band play.

As always, Shiro took his place by the bar, drink in hand to sip idly while he watched the other pub-goers. The usual crowd was here (Shiro found himself a little smug to realise that he frequented the show often enough to recognise the usual crowd) and tonight the bar was being manned by the bands self-proclaimed manager, Coran.

“Ah, Shiro!” Coran greeted when he appeared from behind the counter. “And Lance, too! Great to see you.”

“You too, Coran,” Shiro replied with a smile.

“You’re looking rather sharp for a night at the humble old watering-hole. What’s the occasion?”

“Lance has a date with Allura.” Shiro nudged Lance, whose nerves were starting to show now that they were actually out in public. “We’re all going out together after the show.”

“Ah, the old pre-load. I know that trick all too well. I must say, my drinks are quite a bit easier on the back pocket than the ones you’ll get in any nightclub.”

“You’re not wrong,” Shiro said with a laugh. “But I don’t think we’ll be drinking too much anyway. Lance has a tendency to spew.”

“Hey! I do  _ not _ ,” Lance objected. “That was  _ one time _ thank you, and you made me do keg stands!”

“A fond memory.” Shiro placed a hand over his heart with an exaggerated sigh. “The stain is still on my kitchen floor.”

“Well if it’s a night of dancing ahead of you, let me find you a god solid drink to loosen those limbs and get the rhythm foot forward,” Coran announced. “I’ve got a secret recipe for just the thing!”

He bustled off to the other side of the bar, painting an amusing picture with his oversized frilly apron and gigantic moustache. Shiro watched him in amusement for a few moments, finding entertainment in watching Coran all on its own.

His attention was pulled back to the main stage when Allura’s voice came through the mic to begin their sound tests.

Keith was perched on a stool this time, guitar balanced on one knee while he checked the tuning. Shiro’s breath got stuck on the inhale when he took in Keith’s attire—despite his act of edgy disdain for the mainstream, Keith knew how to dress on  _ trend _ , and his ripped jeans, muscle tee and Lacoste’s coupled with the messy half updo  gave him such a look of casual edginess that Shiro’s eyes were glued to him.

“Earth to Shiro!”

Coran’s voice dragged him back to the present, and he gave a sheepish apology when he tore his eyes away from Keith.

“He was too busy ogling his boyfriend,” Lance replied casually. “Don’t hold it against him.”

Shiro flushed.

“Not to worry,” Coran said brightly. He slid three shot glasses filled with suspiciously crystalline liquid across the bar. “I found my secret limb-liquidator after all! Here you go, one shot of this and you’ll be dancing all night like no one is watching. On the house!”

Shiro eyed the drink dubiously.

“Well,” Lance said cheerfully, “can’t make me any worse, anyway. Bit of liquid courage never hurt anyone.” He picked up his shot and turned to Shiro with an expectant look.

Shiro sighed and took his own, not even pausing to sniff at it for fear it would both singe his nostrils and put him off.

“That’s the spirit!” Coran chirped. He lifted the third glass with a wink. “I even made one for myself. Cheers!”

“Cheers.” Lance and Shiro echoed.

They chinked their glasses and threw the shot back, and only Coran was able to swallow without making a face of disgust. Lance outright began coughing, and Shiro felt like his eyes were on fire as he thumped his friend on the back in sympathy.

“What the hell is this?” Lance wheezed.

“This is Weizenkorn! Tastes great, doesn’t it? You’ll be hanging loose in no time.”

Coran left them there with a smile that was  _ too _ knowing to be oblivious to their disgust. Shiro took a reedy sip of his beer, eyes watering, and beside him Lance shifted to the water dispenser to pour himself several cups.

The taste lingered the entire way through the show. But only about ten minutes after taking the shot, Shiro began to relax into a lean on the bar, his vision just a tiny bit off and his limbs languid. He watched Keith with a lidded gaze, not caring that he was grinning to himself like an idiot, and hummed along to the songs he recognised.

Beside him, Lance was in a similar state.

“Fuck,” Lance muttered. “Coran wasn’t lying. How much alcohol was in that stuff, anyway?”

Shiro shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m set for the night now. Don’t need to spend a single cent.”

The tipsy feeling lingered right through until the band finished their set, and when Keith sauntered over to greet him, Shiro had no qualms about draping an arm over his shoulder and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Wow, hey to you too,” Keith huffed a laugh with a pat to Shiro’s chest. “How much have you had?”

“Hardly any,” Lance replied. “Coran gave us a shot.”

Keith just nodded his head once, eyes wide like everything made sense.

“Well, that explains it then. You might wanna take it easy on the rest of the drinks then—that shit is deadly if you start mixing.”

“Aye, sir,” Shiro said with a grin. “No mixing. I don’t think I need any more anyway.”

Keith flushed and shook his head with an embarrassed huff. “I’ve gotta pack up, but we’ll meet you here when we’re done.”

“Okay.” Shiro kissed Keith’s forehead with a happy hum, and Keith buffed him off with a smile.

“Gross,” Lance proclaimed when Keith began weaving his way back to the stage. “You’re gross.”

“You’re just jealous,” Shiro preened.

“You’re damn right I am,” Lance sighed. “It’s fine. Even if nothing does work out, she’s still an incredible friend.  I’m lucky.”

Shiro slapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder in solidarity, giving it a firm squeeze. “It’ll work out. You a good guy for respecting her boundaries. So let’s just have a good time tonight and show her you aren’t just in it for a ride.”

“I would,” Lance replied, face twisting into a confused grimace. “But I seem to have lost control of my limbs.”

.o0o.

It took them a grand total of five minutes to make their way into the night club once the bouncer had laid eyes on an arresting looking Allura. She’d beamed at him and requested that the rest of her entourage (Keith, Lance, Matt, Shiro and Lance’s friend Hunk and his girlfriend Shay) be allowed in with her,  to which the bouncer begrudgingly acquiesced. Lance spent the following ten minutes telling anyone who would listen that Allura was so perfect that she even made hardened security go soft. By the end of it, Allura’s cheeks were tinged pink with the praise, even as she tried to brush Lance’s compliments off with a laugh.

It was dark, and the beat thrummed through the place with a deep vibration that Shiro could feel in his chest. Every thump of the bass reverberated in his lungs and his ears, and the dim blue lights brought a mood of recklessness that was heightened by the packed bodies at the bar and on the floor.

Lance lead them through the club with a confidence Shiro knew to be mostly show (he was still utterly terrified of making a fool of himself in front of Allura and ruining everything). The group circled a few times, back and forth through the floors until they found a round booth being freed up by another group. They all slid in cheerfully, leaving Lance and Shiro to gather drink orders for their shout of the first round.

It took a good fifteen minutes until they were served. In that time, Lance’s cheerful confidence managed to sway a little, giving Shiro a glimpse of the nerves underneath. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to fuck this up, and Shiro sympathised more than Lance probably realised.

“She’s just…she’s perfect, y’know?” Lance said when Shiro leaned over to ask if he was alright. “I mean, I know she’s not perfect because no one is but…she’s so far out of my league right now. I just want to be the best I can be, because I wanna be someone who deserves her.”

Shiro clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder in solitude. “You will be, man. You’re doing all the right things so far.”

“Yeah,” Lance gave a small grin. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“No problem,” Shiro smiled and withdrew his hand. “I think Coran’s drink has me half-cut already, by the way. I can hear colours.”

Lance laughed and, mood lifted, they ordered their round and headed back to the table. Shiro didn’t fail to notice the renewed vigour with which Lance approached Allura—who  _ was _ receptive to his advances, if coy about it. Lance would be fine.

“Man, it’s a shame Pidge couldn’t come,” Hunk said to a chorus of agreement. “What was her excuse this time, Matt?”

“She’s underage,” Matt deadpanned, and then he grinned. “Not that ever stopped her before. Something about a biophysics and molecular radiology assignment.”

There was a chorus of sympathy groans around the table.

Shiro settled back into the booth, content to listen to the conversation that was struck up over the music. Beside him, Keith settled in with his drink, listening without contributing much. He was warm, and he looked incredible, and Shiro was completely smitten with him. He draped an arm over Keith’s shoulders, drawing circles on the bare skin of his shoulder with one hand while he sipped idly at his drink in the other.

A short while and another round of drinks later, Hunk invited Shay up to dance, and they exited the booth with giggles and smiles. Shiro watched them fondly—he didn’t know either of them well, but he found their friendliness with everyone around them made them a genuinely good couple; they were easy to get to know and easy to hang out with. He got the vibe that Hunk’s placidness was good for Lance’s anxiety when he let it get too far out of control.

Not too long after Hunk and Shay left, Matt spotted someone who he abruptly said he  _ had _ to introduce himself to, and exited the booth as well. It left just Lance and Allura, and Shiro and Keith behind.

Keith had spent the majority of the time sipping at his drink and listening, but as time had gone on he’d pressed himself further and further against Shiro, his body warm. No matter how many times they touched or how close they got, Keith’s body always managed to send little jolts of electricity along Shiro’s spine.

Coupled with the buzz of alcohol under his veins, Shiro was feeling particularly languid.

He leaned down to nuzzle at Keith’s hair—as soft and sweet as ever in its half updo—and flicked his tongue against the shell of his ear, grinning when Keith’s hand clenched on his thigh.

“Wanna dance?” Shiro breathed.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Keith replied, though his voice was low.

“You don’t need to be.” Shiro took Keith’s drink with a smile and placed it on the table beside his own, and moved to slide out of the booth. Keith watched him for a moment, hesitant, but acquiesced when Shiro smiled at him and flicked his gaze pointedly across to Lance and Allura—who were engrossed in conversation across the table, heads together.

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Keith slid out of the booth after Shiro. He took Shiro’s hand and let himself be led through the dim room, weaving their way through bodies and groups until it was almost completely dark and there was nothing but the flash and roll of the coloured disco lights and strobes.

There were groups and couples on the packed floor. Here, the music was loud beyond belief, making any kind of conversation impossible. It was all about the music and the rhythm, the bass pounding through the floor and into their very bones until it thrummed in their veins with every beat.

Shiro squeezed his way through the bodies, caring little for the roll and twist of them against him as he edged through. He kept tight hold of Keith’s hand so they wouldn’t be separated, and weaved into the crowd until they were almost in the middle of the floor, in a tiny space just for them.

The flashes of Keith’s face he could see were uncertain. Shiro wasn’t concerned though—it was easy to fall into the tempo of the music. He pulled Keith close, hand at his hip and their foreheads almost together, and began to move.

Keith was stiff at first. Unsure and self-conscious, he spent a lot of his time glancing around him as though worried people would judge him for his moves, as though it were some kind of competition. Shiro let him, not worried beyond appreciating the fact that he was  _ here _ , dancing together under the lights. Eventually either the alcohol would kick in properly or Keith would just stop giving a fuck—whichever came first. Both were fine by Shiro.

It took a little time. Around three songs, to be exact. Shiro just let Keith ease into it, and he did of his own accord, slowly letting go of his worries until he was moving languidly with the pulse of the music.

He was breathtaking.

The coloured lights flashed across his skin, his eyes lit up under the strobe every so often, and Shiro couldn’t take his eyes off him. The wide eyed expression was slowly replaced with a smile, bottom lip between Keith’s lips as he moved, and his eyes fixed on Shiro with his hands at his shoulders, both of them consumed in nothing but each other.

The dance floor rolled around them, people all concerned with only their own good time, and Shiro leaned down until there was barely a whisper between his lips and Keith’s—the teasing only heightening the thrumming in his veins from the music.

And then them music switched, and Shiro laughed at the familiar beat that began to play.

 

_ Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you, _

_ Drank too much and that’s an issue, but I’m okay. _

 

“Good song!” Shiro yelled over the music, barely heard even as he leaned right down to shout in Keith’s ear.

“Boring!” Keith shouted back good-naturedly.

But neither of them stopped. The music reverberated around them, and Shiro kept Keith close, mouthing along with the words while Keith smiled with him.

 

_ I know it breaks your heart, moved to the city in a broke down car _

_ Four years no call, now you’re lookin’ pretty in a hotel bar _

_ And I-I-I can’t stop. No I-I-I can’t stop. _

_ So baby pull me closer, in the backseat of your Rover _

_ That I know you can’t afford, _

_ Bite that tattoo on your shoulder… _

 

To Shiro’s utter surprise and delight, Keith turned in his grasp with a smirk, his bottom lip between his teeth as the chorus built its crescendo. He pressed himself back, ass to Shiro’s hips and his neck bared freely, and Shiro couldn’t resist clenching his hands at Keith’s hips and nosing along his neck.

 

_ We ain’t ever getting older, _

_ We ain’t ever getting older. _

_ You look as good as the day I met you _

_ I forget just why I left you, I was insane _

_ Stay, play that Blink 182 song that we beat to death in Tucson _

_ Okay _

 

Keith’s arm raised high, reaching behind him to grasp at the back of Shiro’s neck, and his other slid to entwine their fingers together, pulling Shiro’s other hand until it settled at his abdomen. They moved together, unaware of anything else but the song and the heat of each other, their movements fluid and in sync.

Keith’s body was hot—impossibly hot. Shiro could feel sweat on his brow, but neither of them cared to slow down or stop, focused only on how their bodies felt and how the music sounded. Shiro bent his head to nuzzle at Keith’s neck again, and Keith dropped his head back until it settled at Shiro’s shoulder, eyes closed and expression one of relaxed bliss.

 

_ So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your rover _

_ That I know you can’t afford, bite that tattoo on your shoulder _

_ Pull the sheets right off the corner of the mattress that you stole _

_ From your roommate back in Boulder _

_ We ain’t ever getting older, _

_ We ain’t ever getting older, _

_ No we ain’t ever getting older. _

 

The song drew to a close with Shiro openly mouthing at Keith’s n eck, and he felt more than heard Keith’s laugh against him. Shiro’s heart thumped in his chest, tripping over itself a few times in a combination of lust as Keith made one more roll back against his crotch, and fondness as Keith relaxed into his hold.

Keith pulled away as the next song began, breathless and grinning.  His face was flushed and his eyes bright, the jubilance clear in the brilliant smile on his face. That look caught Shiro’s heart in a snare, a chokehold that burned itself into his mind and refused to let go. The warmth he felt under his skin had nothing to do with the sweaty heat of the dancefloor, and everything to do with the swelling of his heart as he looked at Keith.

They’d made their way to the edge of the dancefloor without even realising, and Keith tugged Shiro down to shout in his ear.

“Have to pee! Stay here!”

Shiro just nodded with a smile, and kissed the back of Keith’s hand as he pulled away.  He watched him go, expression soft, and then closed his eyes and let himself be lost to the music as he danced on his own.

The song was unfamiliar to him. Contrary to what Shiro teased Keith with, he wasn’t really a connoisseur of current music, so he didn’t really pay attention to anything but the beat as he moved. His mind was consumed with Keith, and little else.

Keith, who smiled at him with such openness that Shiro’s heart stuttered when he saw it. Keith, who was mostly left handed but used his knife and fork right handed, and sometimes switched hands when he was writing because he cramped. Keith, who had a tiny little bald patch in the soft fluff behind his ear from a scratch he’d gotten as a kid. Who didn’t like tomatoes, but ate so much tomato sauce on his scrambled eggs that it should be illegal. Who got annoyed when he thought he was being lectured, and recalcitrant when he  _ knew _ disapproval was being voiced.

Who burrowed himself into Shiro’s heart and never really left, even after that first night at the Lass.

_ Fuck. _

Shiro stopped dead on the dancefloor when the realisation struck him. It was like a lightning bolt, rendering him stunned and his cheeks and body burning with it.

_ I’m in love with him. _

It was a giddy feeling that had Shiro rooted to the spot, staring vacantly at the shadowy DJ while the other patrons danced around him.

He was in love with Keith.

He was  _ in love with Keith. _

He would have laughed—would have even bounced his way around in a tiny circle if he’d had the room. Would have screamed it to the ceiling because he was so happy and everyone deserved to know and everyone should hear it.

_ I love Keith. _

But his moment of excitable review was interrupted when his space was invaded by someone else.

A girl; the pretty type who dressed like she should be on the stage with a pop star as a backup dancer. She rolled against Shiro without worry, smiling up at him despite the fact he’d hardly responded to her. And when he paused, she grabbed his hands and pressed them to her hip and upper abdomen, trying to encourage him to move with her.

“I—uh—“

She couldn’t hear him over the music, and when Shiro didn’t respond right away, she turned in his grasp and flung her arms around his neck. Her smile was innocent—she was only there for a good time, and had obviously seen Shiro standing there by himself and decided to try and dance with him. But she was oblivious to the fact Shiro was trying to move away, caught up in the atmosphere of the song.

And then, to Shiro’s horror, the girl leaned up and planted a cheeky kiss on his mouth.

Shiro’s mind shorted out for a solid second, giving her a chance to try and deepen it, her tongue swiping across his lips teasingly in a way that had Shiro suddenly feeling disgust.

Shiro jerked back, this time taking hold of her shoulders and forcibly pushing. She looked shocked, and then apologetic, but Shiro didn’t give her a chance to do anything else as he began moving his way back through the crowd.

Her hand snagged him when he turned away, and Shiro paused just long enough to see her mouth ‘I’m sorry’ over the music. The words themselves were lost to the noise, but at least she seemed genuinely distraught. Shiro’s anger tempered a little, though he was still agitated that she saw fit to invade his space like that when they’d barely even spent two seconds together.

Irritation simmered through his veins over the incident, compounded by the fact that he’d been feeling so fucking good just seconds before the girl had interrupted. Mood ruined, Shiro stomped his way back over to the booth where Hunk and Matt were sitting, not noticing the frowns they were giving him as he dropped into a seat.

Keith would find him there once he realised Shiro had disappeared from the dance floor, he figured.

But minutes passed—then five, then ten, and Keith didn’t return. Shiro glanced in the direction of the bathrooms with a furrowed brow, confused.

Did Keith get lost?

Matt and Hunk continued their conversation despite Shiro’s stormy mood. They shot him glances every so often that Shiro tried his best to ignore, but with Keith’s absence compounding on top of his already irritable mood, he found it increasingly difficult to do so.

“What?” He finally said testily when Matt looked at him for about the fiftieth time that minute. “Is there something on my face?”

“Nah man,” Matt waved him off. “You just seem on edge.”

Shiro heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. He stared at the dregs of the glass in his hand (that wasn’t even his), twirling the half melted ice cubes through the watered down liquid. Had Keith gotten in trouble in the bathroom? Should he go in there after him to make sure, or would that be weird? Was he just overreacting? Keith might just take a really long time in there and Shiro was just making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Keith hasn’t come back yet,” Shiro finally said, once more frowning towards the bathrooms. “Do you think I should go in after him?”

“Dude,” Hunk said. “Keith came back like fifteen minutes ago. He said he was leaving.”

“ _ Leaving…? _ ”

“Yeah,” Matt shot a glance over to Hunk. “He seemed really upset. We thought you two must have had a fight or something. Is everything alright?”

Shiro stared.

And then his blood turned to ice.

“Did he say anything?” Shiro asked thinly in lieu of answering Matt’s question.

“No,” Hunk replied. “Just said he had to go. Grabbed his things and left.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck.  _ Fuck. _

Keith must have witnessed the entire thing with the girl on the dance floor. Despite Shiro protesting the advances, it would be easy to get the wrong idea. If Keith  _ had _ misinterpreted… then that meant things were royally, completely screwed.

_ “Fuck _ ,” Shiro cursed. “Sorry guys, I gotta go.”

He grabbed his things and stumbled out of the booth, tripping past a very puzzled looking Lance and Allura in his haste to get out the door. There was no time to stop and explain to them what was going on. He had to get to Keith and let him know that it was all a huge misunderstanding before he could stew for too long. If that happened, everything would fall apart, and Shiro absolutely, one hundred percent could  _ not _ cope with that outcome.

Shiro was in such a rush that he didn’t even have the presence of mind to hire a cab right away. He just took off down the street, frantically dialling Keith’s number while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of him.

_ “Hey, this is Keith. Leave a number.” _

“Shit,” Shiro hissed when he reached Keith’s message bank for the third time. The first two had been accompanied by the dial tone, but the third had seen Shiro’s call go straight to message bank. Keith had turned his phone off, which meant he didn’t want to take Shiro’s calls.

It couldn’t end like this. There was no way.

Shiro would go straight over to Keith’s place to either wait for him there or try and get him to answer the door— _ anything  _ that would make Keith understand that the situation on the dancefloor was a huge mistake and he didn’t even know the girl. Anything that would ensure that their relationship wasn’t ruined because of one girl’s stupid actions.

They couldn’t end like this.

Shiro wouldn’t let it go.

Not without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Keith wasn’t in his apartment.

He didn’t show up even after Shiro waited there for an hour, either.

His phone stayed off, and he didn’t answer a single message out of the ridiculous number of increasingly panicked texts Shiro had sent him. Not the night following the club, and not the day after either.

When Shiro asked his friends, they claimed they hadn’t heard from Keith either. But according to Allura, Keith had done this before—she wasn’t sure of the circumstances that caused it, but Keith had dropped off the radar for a solid week in the early stages of their musical relationship. Apparently, Allura and the original drummer in the band had been preparing to begin looking for a replacement guitarist, when Keith had reappeared out of nowhere claiming he had just needed some time, and everything was fine again.

Shiro wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that.

.o0o. 

_ [0952] Shiro: I know I’ve probably destroyed your phone by now with the 234 messages you’ll get when you finally check them. But I just want to say again that I’m sorry, and it was a mistake. The girl didn’t realise I was trying to get away from her until I had to basically shove her off me. I know how it must have looked, and I swear to you that it wasn’t like that. I just don’t want you to think I would do something so awful. _

_ [1308] Shiro: I listened to that album again. Love You Like a Brother. Reminds me of you. _

_ [2224] Shiro: Goodnight, Keith. I’m sorry. _

_ [0912] Shiro: It’s been two days and no one has heard from you. Please just text me back so I know you’re alright. You don’t have to explain anything and you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to. I just need to know that you’re okay. _

_ [1437] Shiro: You got someone to cover your shift? Are you ill? Keith I’m really worried… _

_ [2141] Shiro: I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow… _

_ [0316] Keith: i just need to think _

.o0o.

Keith wasn’t in class on Monday.

It was the one class all year that he’d skipped to Shiro’s knowledge. The professor said nothing about whether or not Keith was sick; just that he’d handed his work in early and had apologised for the absence.

Keith didn’t respond to any more texts, and Shiro’s messages went from pleas to answer that he’s okay to idle commentary about things that were happening around him during the day. It helped that he knew now that Keith was reading his messages—the knowledge helped keep Shiro from tearing his hair out on a near constant basis.

It was utterly miserable.

Midweek, Lance caught Shiro after one of his lectures. There was only a short break between classes, but it was enough time for Lance to point out that Shiro looked like shit and that he’d never seen him such a wreck. He’d invited Shiro over for dinner that night—late night studying be damned, and Shiro had reluctantly dragged himself over in an effort to stop himself from going stir crazy.

Once, Shiro would have been infuriated with himself at how easily he’d allowed himself to get lost in Keith. Of how harshly he was taking the absence. Even now, he considered it pathetic that he was such a mess.

“Not pathetic, man,” Lance had said, sprawled across his couch with a stubbie in hand.  “If anything, it proves how much you care. If anything, its kinda pathetic of him to go to ground like this and all but ghost you.”

“He said he needs time,” Shiro replied miserably. “I want to give him that. He saw the whole thing, after all.”

“From what it sounds like, he saw  _ another _ girl try and jump you, going by what you told me.” Lance said pragmatically. “That isn’t exactly grounds for a breakup, unless Keith was completely unreasonable. It’s a dick move for him to just like. Ghost you, like I said. But he’ll come around.”

Thursday came and went, with no word from Keith.

He wasn’t at his usual shift at the shop. They said he’d had someone cover for him again, which they all found unusual as well, because Keith  _ never _ ditched a shift. Shiro found himself a little irritated by that information—but he wasn’t sure whether he was irritated at Keith or the situation at large.

It was ridiculous of Keith to make so many people worry like that. But if Shiro knew Keith, he was probably feeling too overwhelmed to deal with people right now, and needed the solitude.

Which was probably the main reason why Shiro didn’t storm Keith’s apartment and demand answers.

Being separated sucked, but forcing interaction on Keith when he wasn’t ready for it or needed to be alone would suck even more.

So he kept up his steady stream of texts and he swallowed down his anxieties and he continued on. Because that’s all there was to do—continue. He just had to be patient, and focus on keeping his wits about him until he saw Keith again.

Keith’s absence taught Shiro one thing; that he was so irrevocably entwined into every aspect of Shiro’s day to day life even after a few short months of knowing him, that just a few days without him rendered Shiro’s days colourless and bland.  

Shiro missed Keith’s humour. He missed his rare smile, and his dry wit. He missed the softness of his hair and the scent of his skin, and his long slender fingers that left fire in the wake of everything they touched. He missed the sound of Keith’s voice and the feel of him around Shiro and in him. His taste and smell.

Shiro just plain missed Keith.

“Dude, we get it,” Matt groaned after Shiro voiced his loneliness miserably one lunch time. “You miss your lover-boy. God, if this is what you’re like when he takes a week vacation from life, I don’t ever want to deal with you if you split up.”

Shiro winced so hard that Matt was quick to change the subject.

“Anyway, remember that sweet lady I got to dance with the other night? Did you meet her?”

Shiro shook his head in the negative.

“Oh. Well. She was super fine and I got her number, and we’re going on a date on Saturday.”

“That’s great, Matt.”

“Right? I thought I didn’t stand a chance for a minute there, but she warmed. Must have been my charm and sweet personality.”

Shiro’s answering smile to Matt’s beam was as genuine as he could make it. He was truly happy for his friend and hoped that his date worked out, but he couldn’t help but feel like his reaction was a little strained. He hated that his happiness was dulled by loneliness.

This had to end soon.

.o0o.

Self-care Friday that week wasn't so much 'self-care' as it was 'self-preservation'. Shiro spent half the morning in bed reading, and then dragged himself out to head to the gym around lunch time. The exertion of a good weights session helped free some of the pent up emotion on his shoulders, and he bought himself a coffee at the shop (Keith conspicuously absent) on the way home without feeling anxious. It was progress, anyway, and it was better than lying around feeling sorry for himself and hoping Keith would get in touch with him.

Keith needed his time, and that was okay by Shiro. He was happy to give it to him. What Shiro had never expected out of the whole ordeal was how miserable he was feeling about it. They were barely even in a relationship and he felt like he was going through a breakup, and this was only with a few days  _ space. _

The afternoon saw Shiro curled up on the lounge, flicking through the movie channels on TV as he flipped through the menu for his local Pizza Hut. It had been a long time since he'd ordered pizza just for himself. The food would probably go straight to his ass and he'd need a weeks’ worth of exercise to make up for it, but fuck it. Shiro was an emotional eater, and he was feeling emotional. Pizza sounded fucking incredible.

He showered late in the afternoon, wasting a whole lot of water just standing there letting the hot spray rush over him while he thought.

What was he to do if Keith wanted much more time? While Shiro  _ was _ happy to give it to him, that didn't mean he was willing to go indefinitely. At least another message to check in would be nice, if not a short phone call. Allura had promised when he'd seen her earlier in the week that Keith would come around very soon; that he'd hear from him soon. And that was something nice to look forward to, but Shiro didn't like being dangled on a leash like that.

Maybe he'd try and text Keith tomorrow. See if they could organise a coffee and see where they were at.

Because surely there was no way Keith was gunning on continuing what they had—or solidifying it—if he was going this long without contact. Shiro couldn't think of any planet where such a long time being ghosted meant anything good. Steeling himself, having a meet up with Keith and sorting the entire thing out was probably the best approach for both of them for now.

Shiro stared miserably at his phone where it sat dormant on the coffee table. It was nearing 6pm—around the time Keith would be getting ready to head to the Lass O'Gowrie. He'd have his phone on him. Shiro had decided not to attend the show tonight; the last thing Keith needed was the worry of his presence while he performed, and Shiro wasn't exactly sure how he'd feel if Keith saw him and gave a negative reaction.

No, it was best to leave him be, and catch up tomorrow.

Snatching up his phone, Shiro opened the message window and breathed deep, before flicking off a quick message;

 

_ [1753] Shiro: Hey. I'd like to see you tomorrow, if that's okay. We can catch up and have a coffee and talk about everything. _

 

The message sat, its little 'delivered' notification perched beneath just like the multiple earlier unanswered messages that had slowly dwindled in number over the past few days.

Shiro ate his pizza alone, slouched on the lounge in a tank and his undies while reruns of  _ FRIENDS _ played idly on the TV.

At 7.30, he ordered himself an extra large sundae and didn't even care that the delivery guy gave him a pitying look when he turned to leave.

At 8.15, he switched the TV to the reality TV channel, where some stupid show about getting married without meeting each other first was playing.

At 8.30, he began contemplating going to bed. Keith hadn't answered the text, and Shiro was resigning himself to the fact that he'd probably been completely ghosted.

At 8.45, his phone lit up with a text, and Shiro scrambled so hard to get it that he nearly fell off the couch and upended his empty pizza box.

 

_ [2043] Lance: dude u need to get ur ass down here rn. stat. pronto. asap. _

_ [2043] Lance: im not even kidding. come in ur pjs if ur in them. you need to come to the pub right now. _

_ [2043] Shiro: Why? _

_ [2044]: Lance: dont ask q's just get down here man or i'll come round there and drag u by the elastic of ur undies _

_ [2044] Lance: the g string ones _

_ [2045] Lance: hurry up _

_ [2046] Shiro: Alright, alright. I'm just putting some jeans on. I'll be there soon. _

_ [2049]: Lance: i s2g dude if u aint... _

 

He couldn't fathom what on earth would make Lance so desperate for him to get down to the pub. But his urgency made Shiro nervous, so he didn't waste too much time making himself handsome; a pair of jeans and a shirt over the singlet was all he threw on before he loped out the door.

The drive was shorter than usual given the semi-late hour. Along the way, Shiro ran through the multiple different scenarios in his head that could warrant such an urgent text from Lance. Despite the fact Lance had a habit of exaggerating things at the best of times, Shiro felt it in his gut that the other was serious when he insisted Shiro get down to the pub quickly. Which was why Shiro was rapidly questioning what the reasons for it could possibly be. Keith must have been there playing—had he asked to see Shiro? Had he been upset that Shiro didn't show, and that's why Lance was aggressively messaging?

No...if that was the case, Lance would have messaged earlier. Careful Suggestion would have been playing for at least an hour and a half by now—if Keith was upset by Shiro's absence, Lance would have known about it almost right away.

Although, Shiro thought privately to himself, it was a bit rich for Keith to be upset by Shiro's absence.

He pulled up outside the bar a solid ten minutes later.

It didn't matter how often he showed up there, Shiro could never quite manage to fit in with the bohemian hippy vibes of the other patrons. They spilled out onto the street, leaning against the brick wall grinning at one another, and only parted when Shiro practically elbowed past them to let himself in. Clearly, he didn't fit their  _ standard  _ of patron.

Not that he cared.

Once inside, Shiro cast his eyes up to the stage where the band was already playing. Allura was halfway through a song, her voice haunting in the mic, but Shiro's eyes werent for her. They were drawn straight to Keith, who was sitting beside her as he usually did, playing his part of the song robotically.

He looked...ill.

A wave of concern struck Shiro, but before he could think about it Lance spotted him, and called his name out with a whoop of delight.

"Shiro!"

Shiro nodded his head in greeting over the crowd, and pushed his way through until he reached his usual spot at the bar where Lance was leaning.

"You made it!" Lance grinned, elbowing Shiro in the side.

"You made me think the building was going to collapse with everyone inside if I didn't," Shiro remarked.

Lance gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well, had to make sure you got here in time. Coran!"

"In time for what...?" Shiro muttered.

Coran answered Lance's holler with one of his own, and trotted over with bright eyes and a twitch to his moustache.

"Ah, Shiro! Good to see you. Glad you could make it! Drinks for you both?"

"As long as it isn't that celery tasting stuff you fed us last week," Shiro replied drily. "A Brooklyn for me, thanks."

"Jameson on the rocks for me," Lance chirped. He looked positively elated. "So why didn't you show up first time around, huh?"

Shiro shrugged. "Thought I'd give Keith some space. I didn't think he'd want me here."

"Hah." Lance barked. "Well. You're about to see how wrong you are."

"What?" Shiro frowned at Lance, confused. "What do you—"

Lance just nudged his shoulder, and then gestured up to the stage. "You'll see."

Shiro's frown didn't soften, but he turned to watch the stage at Lance's suggestion. If this turned out ot be a waste of time, at least he'd probably be able to corner Keith afterwards.

That was his train of thought anyway; until he saw Keith shuffling on his stool to adjust the mic he’d set up in front of him.

Keith didn’t sing. He had a nice voice (at least, Shiro thought so) but he never put it on display for the bands shows—the backup vocals were always supplied by Matt. He said it was because he didn’t like the way he sounded on the mic, and had always vehemently refused Shiro when Shiro whined that he should get up there and perform.

So to see him up there with a mic in front of him, height being adjusted so that it sat in the right spot with Keith seated…

Shiro’s breath stuck in his chest.

He gazed wide eyed as Keith took over. Allura beamed down at him as she stepped aside with the keyboard, her position on stage shifting back slightly so that Keith had the limelight and she took the role of backup. Keith was firmly and solely the focus now, and there was no mistaking it.

Something washed over Shiro at the sight of Keith in the spotlight. He wasn’t sure whether it was anticipation, fear, awe or a combination of all three. Either way it was hot and electric in his veins, and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Keith’s charm reverberated about the pub; it was obvious that this turn of events was unusual, but Shiro could barely hear anything besides Keith when Keith began to talk.

“So, uh. Hey,” Keith all but mumbled, and Shiro’s heart  _ thumped _ in his chest at the way the sound rumbled through his body.  _ God _ , Keith was so fucking pretty and awkward and perfect. It was hard for Shiro to even think about the fact he hadn’t seen him for an entire week.

“I don’t normally sing much,” Keith said with a huff. He was staring at his guitar while he played with the capo, the colour in his cheeks visible in the harsh light. “But I have a song I want to sing in honour of one particular dumbass who made me question everything about myself for an entire week.” Fiddling with the capo again, glancing up at Allura who was grinning, repositioning the guitar on his lap. “It’s a bit different to our usual, but it’s…it’s a good song. An important song—to me, anyway. This song is…” Keith cleared his throat, and cringed when the sound caused the mic to squeal. “Sorry. Uh.”

He was so fucking nervous. It was visible, and it was adorable. He kept playing with the capo, moving it a barely recognisable distance along the fretboard, and then back again, as he glanced across the crowd and back at his guitar. He took a deep breath, and then began speaking again.

“This song is for the guy who gave me my best kiss to the tune of shitty music that he thought was groundbreaking. It’s for the guy who speed marked an assignment so he could hand it back in person and introduce himself to me without realising he’d been my god damn TA for six months already. For the guy who snuck up on me outside of work and scared the ever loving crap out of me and ended up giving himself a concussion because of it. It’s for the guy who made me feel on top of the world one second, and then had me drowning my sorrows in a bottle of bourbon the next day.  It’s for the guy who made me feel so many things all at once that I don’t know how to put it into a neat little metaphor because I’m no good at metaphors, but he makes me feel like I can do anything.”

Shiro couldn’t breathe. He stared, aware but completely unaffected by the fact that Matt had commandeered a torch or flashlight of some description and was shining it directly on him, or of the attention other people were garnering when they turned to see who Keith was talking about.

All he could see—all he could ever see—was Keith staring right at him, expression determined, the emotion plain on his face like it always had been.

“It’s called  _ I Like me Better. _ ”

And just like that, nothing else existed.

Keith plucked the strings, and the music may as well have been played in a cavernous hangar made of concrete for the way it echoed and reverberated in Shiro’s head. No one else was there but them, the familiar notes catching in Shiro’s chest while he carefully edged forward in the parting crowd.

 

_ “To be young and in love in New York City, _

_ To not know who I am but still now that I’m good long as you’re here with me. _

_ To be drunk and in love in New York City, _

_ Midnight into morning coffee. _

_ Burning through the hours talking. _

_ Damn.” _

 

Keith’s voice was perfect around the music. It matched the timbre and mood of the song so well that Shiro’s heart swelled and he thought he could drown himself in it.

His mind drifted back to that very first night Keith stayed over. Shiro had sauntered over to the radio and switched it on while they flirted outrageously with one another, but he’d only put the song to background noise and hadn’t really paid it much mind. Now though—now memories of that night were stark in the forefront of Shiro’s brain, because this was the song that played while he lost himself in Keith for the very first time.

 

“ _ I like me better when I’m with you. _

_ I like me better when I’m with you. _

_ I knew from the first time, I’d stay for a long time, _

_ Cause I like me better when, I like me better when I’m with you.” _

 

Matt joined in with the simple drum beat then, his grin visible from ear to ear. Shiro stared at all three of them—these people who had practiced and performed this song knowing exactly what Keith was intending with it—knowing exactly that he wanted to make a show for Shiro.

His heart swelled impossibly more.

Keith wasn’t looking at him. He was focused on the music with his eyes closed, looking to Shiro like he was born to sing this song from the very second he picked up the guitar.

 

_ “I don’t know what it is but I got this feeling. _

_ Making love in this bed next to you, swear the roof here ain’t got no ceiling. _

_ If we lay let the day just pass us by, _

_ We might get to too much talking. I might have to tell you something. _

_ Damn. _

_ I like me better when I’m with you. _

_ I like me better when I’m with you…” _

 

“Keith,” Shiro whispered.

Keith was watching him while he sang now, voice still strong and sure while Shiro’s heart tried to drag itself out of his throat and latch on to the music. Right across the smoky pub, those eyes had him in their grip like they had the very first time Keith had met him. They caught Shiro’s throat and squeezed, closing it up until he could barely breathe while Keith sang his heart out to every paying schmuck in this place.

 

_ “Stay a while, stay a while, stay here with me. _

_ Stay a while, stay a while oh… _ ”

 

The song continued, and Shiro drifted ever closer to the stage. He couldn’t take his eyes off Keith—he was utterly heedless of the other patrons around him, who parted easily for him to make his way closer. The entire time, Keith’s eyes were fixed on Shiro, who wasn’t sure whether he was going to fall apart on the spot of make some ridiculous declaration right there in front of everyone.

The song drew to a close, and raucous applause sounded around the pub. Shiro stood at the edge of the stage, still fixed on Keith, and Keith on him.

The second the last note rang out, Keith was pulling the guitar off his shoulder. The plectrum was dropped carelessly on the ground to be lost until clean-up time, and Matt and Allura were laughing as Keith tripped up on one of the cords. He kept his feet though, gaze never wavering from Shiro’s while cheers and whoops circled them.

Something in Shiro’s chest loosened the second Keith fell into his arms. They gripped each other so securely that it was impossible to breathe, Keith’s head buried in Shiro’s neck and Shiro clutching at Keith’s shoulders like he could physically pull him into himself if he held on any tighter.

Keith’s shoulders were shaking, and Shiro was hard pressed not to follow along with him.

“I thought you wanted to end it,” Shiro managed to say—voice lost to everyone but Keith pressed so close against him. “I was so scared—“

“I’m sorry,” Keith replied. “It was so shitty of me to ghost you like that. I saw you with that girl at the club and I should have been mad at her, but it just made me realise…“

“What,” Shiro pleaded. “What did you realise?”

“It made me realise I love you,” Keith pulled back, eyes shining through his smile. “I love you Takashi. That silly thot made me confront my feelings when I wasn’t ready and I freaked the fuck out about it.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispered. “Fuck. I love you too.  _ God _ , I—“

Keith leaned up and kissed him, hard and desperate, caring none for the others in the vicinity. Shiro clutched him even tighter while he lost himself in it, giddy and full of love and Keith and everything was utterly, completely perfect.

Matt chucked a drumstick at them and Lance shouted something about getting a room, but neither of them cared a single bit.

They stood there in the middle of the floor of the Lass O’Gowrie, the bands set cut short, kissing each other until they couldn’t any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that entire scene at the end is basically the reason this fic happened, because i was driving one day and i heard the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcqxLCWn-CE) and i thought it was such a perfect sheith song that i went on to imagine an entire scenario where keith ends up singing it to shiro as a declaration of love. so thx lauv for spawning this fic, i owe u one.
> 
> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.


	6. Chapter 6

They went for coffee the next day.

They’d stayed up all night, getting probably an hour between them, losing themselves in each other and running on the high from Keith’s performance, until they were barely able to move. Keith had made Shiro see stars, and in turn Shiro had made Keith sing in an entirely different way, until the sun began to peek over the horizon and they’d collapsed for a solid few hours, woken only by the call of food.

Keith had explained to Shiro the entire situation.

He’d seen the girl at the club on the way out of the bathroom—witnessed everything from the moment she’d turned around in Shiro’s hold to when she’d gone in for the kiss. Shiro had tried to apologise for it, but Keith had waved it off; it was obvious that h Shiro hadn’t wanted it, he’d said.

Rather than be overcome with jealousy or anger though, the incident had brought something entirely unexpected to the forefront of Keith’s mind: his feelings for Shiro.

They were stronger than he’d expected, and it was in that moment that Keith had realised that he was hopelessly in love.

It was ironic that only moments before, Shiro had realised the exact same thing.

In a fit of panic from the new revelation, Keith had fled the club immediately, and had gone to his uncles and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor to escape the anxiety those feelings brought. He wasn’t ready to be in love—he’d never been in love in his life. Love frightened Keith, because he’d seen how many ways love could go  _ wrong _ , and he was terrified of that happening to him.

He’d apologised multiple times to the point of repetition for hanging Shiro out to dry. It was a coping mechanism he’d developed as a kid when things got too much—to run, and avoid the problem altogether. But Keith had been trying to work on it and was usually pretty good at regulating his emotions so that he didn’t resort to such extremes—at least, he was in usual situations. He’d just been so overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings that he didn’t know what else to do, especially in the middle of a darkened club with alcohol inhibiting his decision making skills.

Keith promised to never do it again, and Shiro believed him.

Shiro had asked for Keith to sing for him again, which he did, two days later, with Keith in nothing but his boxers and Shiro tangled up in the bedsheets. Keith had serenaded him with every single ‘boring’ song he’d claimed to hate, until Shiro snatched the guitar away and claimed Keith’s attention for himself again.

It was remarkably easy to love Keith. He’d already slotted himself into Shiro’s life in almost every way, but having him move in was probably the best way. Together they split the rent and were able to save, and the only compromise Shiro had to make was to remove Keith’s classes from his TA roster. Shiro wasn’t complaining about that one bit.

.o0o.

Shiro’s Self-care Fridays’ were usually reserved for him.

It was a day free of classes, when he could kick back, relax, and look forward to his boyfriends show that evening. He could put off all of his responsibilities until Sunday when he spent the day in panic powering through his workload for Monday’s classes. It was a routine he rarely breached, and he took great pleasure in cutting himself off from the world.

Even his friends knew not to bother him. Keith was entirely complicit in Shiro’s isolation from the world—he liked to take his phone away so that Shiro could have some time for himself, and not have the excuse of needing to see what was happening among his friends. If it was important, Keith would let him know on the way home from work.

Shiro was happy with that arrangement.

So, when on one such Friday his solitude was rudely interrupted by aggressively loud banging on his front door before the sun had even reached its zenith in the sky, Shiro was ready to fight.

“Shiro!” Lance barged through the door when Shiro cracked it open with a glower.  “It happened! It finally happened!”

Shiro took a deep breath and leaned against the still open door, watching Lance with a bemused expression.

“What happened? Did you finally remember that Friday’s are Shiro’s day of isolation?”

“Nope!” Lance crowed, utterly oblivious to Shiro’s statement. “She agreed to date me! Just me, for real!”

“ _ Just  _ you?” Shiro laughed. “As opposed to…?”

“You know what I mean.” Lance clapped his hands to his cheeks, and stared at Shiro like he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. “Allura agreed to be my girlfriend. Dude… _ dude _ . I can’t even…”

Shiro clapped a hand on Lance’s back, giving him a genuinely warm smile as he turned to steer him back towards the door. “Congrats, Lance. Now, kindly tell me all about it tonight at the Lass…”

That night, Careful Suggestion put on a ‘love’ themed show, that had some of the patrons rolling their eyes and others cheering and hollering for the duration of Keith and Allura’s shared set.

Their boyfriends sat loyally in the audience, grinning from ear to ear while they nudged each other, pointing out that their better halves were up on stage singing.

It was the best form of self-care Shiro had ever discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and...wow. this marks the end of the longest completed fic i've ever done lol. it's been a real labour of love that's for sure, and there were a few times that I didn't think I'd get it done. _and it's not even that long in the grand scheme of things_. I came precariously close to dropping out of this event at one point. If it wasn't for my friend [sage](http://sagesins.tumblr.com) i never would have managed it. 
> 
> a huge thank you to viera and rory for their art—they did a stellar job given that they had literal skeletons to work with for the majority of the event thanks to my atrocious organisational skills. and thank you to sage for betaing this mess for me and encouraging me to continue writing when i felt like i couldn't anymore.
> 
> also thank you to the mods of the sheith big bang for organising the entire event! i can't imagine the amount of work that would have gone into it.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this fic. if you did, please consider leaving a comment or kudos, or come finding me on my [tumblr](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com) to say hello!
> 
> Next up: voltron bingo. oh lawd.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr!](http://sheikofthesheikah.tumblr.com/) Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed.


End file.
